


Here's to the Damned (to the Lost and Forgotten)

by Moonlark



Series: The Life that We Choose (the Life that We Bleed) [1]
Category: Figure Skating RPF, Hockey RPF, Women's Hockey RPF
Genre: Animal Transformation, Demons, Magic, Multi, Shapeshifting, Wings, somehow grew a plot, sorcery, started as crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:57:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 21,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1220293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlark/pseuds/Moonlark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason Brown is known for his cheerful and effervescent personality and his beaming grins. He's bubbly by nature, overenthusiastic and exuberant. It's almost like he's got a sun inside him, lighting him up and warming everyone around him.</p><p>In other words, he's got no idea what's really going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Spotted Quandary

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so even though the Kate Hansen "wolf in the hall" video was a fake, it did make me come up with the idea of the US figure skaters as a pack of werewolves who aren't really a pack, and then it just became an idea about animal transformation, and... well... this happened.
> 
> Title taken from Kelly Clarkson's "People Like Us".
> 
> Enjoy!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are... unexpected side effects to being an Olympic figure skater.

Jason feels like someone should have told him about this beforehand. 

He tries to curl himself further into a ball, tucking his head under his hands—no, paws, his brain corrects, huge dark velveteen paws with razor sharp claws sheathed within them. Someone's hand brushes his shoulder, and his tail lashes violently. He shudders and shakes the hand off. 

"He's sooo lucky!" a familiar voice coos. Gracie. "A beautiful leopard with luxuriously soft fur... so cute!"

"Adorable," and that voice is Ashley. "Just makes you want to snuggle right up to him—Hey!" 

This adorable leopard has weapons of its own, Jason thinks balefully. Normally, he's known for his cheerful and effervescent personality, but he figures that changing into a huge cat is a sound excuse to be mad, especially when everyone seems to know what's going on except him. 

His suddenly sensitive ears pick up footsteps out in the hall, coming toward the game room. He recognizes Jeremy's stride (oh, so that's where Polina went), and it sounds like he's accompanied by Meryl, Charlie, and Polina, and _oh shit, he cannot take the idea of any more people in this room!_

When the door opens, he quickly uncurls himself and sprints out from under the ping-pong table, squeezing under one of the comfy armchairs backed against the wall. His human brain is telling him that it's only his teammates, people he knows, people who would never hurt him, but right now, the wild animal instincts are almost overwhelming, and he needs the small assurance of a wall behind him. 

The footsteps are coming closer, and then Jeremy's face appears in front of the chair. "Hey, kid," he says. 

"Uh, hey?" Jason answers, only it comes out as an animalistic noise, a mix between a chuff and a chirrup. Because right. He's a _cat_.

 "Okay, uh, so Jason? This is, uh, normal? Don't panic—"

"And carry a towel," Ashley snickers. Jeremy scowls and his head disappears.

"Okay, that's enough," Meryl says, going into mother mode. Jason can't help but be thankful, because when Meryl's in mother mode, she's got an iron grip on the situation. "Everyone out. Charlie, make sure no one comes in until I say it's okay—" *sigh* "Everyone _does_ include you, Gracie."

With a small amount of grumbling, the room slowly clears of skaters. Just before the door closes, Meryl calls out, "Oh, and could one of you boys grab some extra clothes? Jason's gonna need some."

"Sure thing, ma'am," Polina calls out, followed by Ashley's laughing "She did say boys..."

Then the room is quiet once more.

Jason's not sure how much time passes. He does know that Meryl sits down in one of the other chairs and takes her phone out. She doesn't do anything else, which the skittish animal instincts appreciate much more than anything else so far. 

Eventually, he's calmed down enough to stick the tip of his nose out from under the chair. His whiskers quiver, which, _weird._ It's almost sensory overload. He can't believe how much he was missing in human form. 

Suddenly, he spots the rope trailing from the ceiling. Huh. That wasn't here when he'd come in. That wasn't here when he'd changed...nope, not thinking about that. Anyway, the rope is a strange new addition and _it's not a rope anymore it's a snake_.

Prey.

Before he knows what he's doing, he's out from under the chair and leaping at the rope. He grabs it between both paws, but loses his hold as he lands. He rears up on his hind legs and bats at it, but he can't get a good grip. Eventually, he gets frustrated and falls back to all fours, tail lashing angrily. 

Wow. That's new, too. He's gotten used to a default setting of cheerful, so to suddenly have a default setting of pissed off is... confusing. 

He's confused.

And pissed off.

And a leopard.

That's when he realizes he's been on camera this whole time. He glares a haughty fuck you at Meryl, and makes to stalk off, until her words register with him. 

"You want to learn how to change back?"

 _Oh yes please god why didn't you tell me before get me out of this leopard skin._ He nods as best he can with a strange spinal structure.

"Think about being human... how it feels to be human. What it's like to have hands, and thumbs, and eyes that see color in definition, and walking upright, and no tail and no fur... just skin." There's a singsong quality to her voice now, hypnotic and convincing. It's kind of like an ocean, a lake, filling up the room with the breaking of waves against invisible shores. "Your claws have become fingernails, your paws feet, your fangs small white human teeth. Your face has flattened, your senses dulled, your spine shifted..."

Jason loses track of what's going on. When he rejoins reality, the rest of the skaters have come back in, and he's been propped in a sitting position in one of the chairs. 

Considering the earlier comment about clothes, he's kind of surprised he's not naked.

Then he's even more surprised about what he's wearing. He's fairly certain he doesn't own such a pair of black skinny jeans, and the white t-shirt with the strange spiky symbol on it is new also. Considering the way they fit him, they probably don't belong to any one else.

But then where did they come from?

Okay. Jason's about ready to give up now. He's got to skate tomorrow. There's the free skate, and he doesn't have time for an existential crisis right now. 

When they ask him if he wants to know what happened, he says, not now.

They understand. They're athletes too.

Only, he doesn't stop thinking about it. It's still tickling the back of his mind when he gets on the ice for the free skate, and despite starting the day in sixth (within reach of a medal) and having multiple people mess up before him, he can't make anything happen. He's too tense, not fluid enough, and he ends up in ninth. 

Oh, well. He's only nineteen. He's got some time. In 2018, in Pyeongchang, he'll be ready. And it's not like this Olympics was a complete loss. He helped win the team bronze, so at least he's got a medal, but... oh well. Four years , and then we'll see. 

On the other hand, he is now ready to find out everything he can about the leopard incident.


	2. Answers Lead to Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason learns more about the side effects of skating.

He drags it out of Gracie and Ashley eventually. 

It takes surprisingly little effort to corner them. He had a number of opportunities, most of which he passed up due to the fact that he had no interest in "interrupting" them. But really, any time he wanted he could've set upon them, and then he'd've had his answers.

But he's too kindhearted to consider most of the ways he could get answers. They aren't nice. He finds that in general, being nice does get you answers, and without the detraction of making enemies.

So now he's in a closet, listening to two girls explain the properties of shapeshifting.

"... and it's like, we've found that almost all figure skaters worth mentioning have the ability to change into an animal form," Gracie says.

Jason's head is spinning. "So you can...  _change_... too?"

Ashley nods. "Gracie's a peregrine falcon, and I'm a husky." She pauses, and Gracie begins listing the various forms.

"Polina's a otter, Charlie's a tiger, Meryl's a lion, Jeremy's a red wolf, and Alex and Maia are both tanuki."

They switch off speakers again.

"It's not just Americans, either. Plushenko's an osprey, Hanyu's a bobcat, and Chan's a caiman. Kim is a horse, a thoroughbred to be exact. Lipnitskaya is a lemur, Virtue's a swan, and Moir's a kingfisher—"

"Woah woah wait a minute," Jason interrupts. "So, just, any good figure skater can change? Is it only figure skaters?"

"Yes, and yes, as far as we know," Ashley answers.

 He's not entirely sure he believes them. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"You don't believe us? I'm hurt," Gracie pouts, miming being stabbed. "Wounded, Jason."

Then, there's a rustling sound, and she's vanished, her clothes falling to the floor. Jason jumps, and then he spots the curved beak and predatory yellow eyes of the falcon now perched on the shelving unit. 

Maybe he backs away slowly, squeezes his eyes shut and huddles in the corner. Maybe he doesn't. He'll never admit to it. 

By the time he looks back, Gracie's shrugging her hoodie back on. 

"Do you believe us now?" Ashley asks.

"Uh, yeah... but, um, why did I, uh, have clothes with me when I changed back?"

They both shrug. "No one knows. You're lucky, though. You don't have to worry about running around naked because you didn't have any clothes nearby," Gracie says.

Ashley looks at her funny. 

"What? It happened once." Gracie sounds slightly put-upon. "Towels do not cover nearly as much as they should."

"I don't even want to know," Jason mutters, shaking his head. It still feels like some bizarre hallucination, or maybe a fairy dream. He decides that he needs time to decipher this information and wanders out of the closet in the general direction of his room. He makes it there eventually.

After he's left, Ashley turns to Gracie. "Something's bothering you, but you didn't want to say it in front of him."

She nods. "Yeah..."

"Well, what is it?"

"... The symbol on his magically appearing shirt is eerily similar to Myrrgloch's. But it isn't. It's glaringly different. But still distinctly similar. It's just... You remember the story about Myrrgloch. About how it took Rakel, Suha, and Mora to defeat him the first time around, and he still was only defeated, not destroyed. And, I mean, Jason's a sweet boy, but if he's gonna be another Myrrgloch, then it's better for the world to...eliminate him before he realizes his full power."

"Kill the baby snake before it grows up into a huge serpent, per se?"

"Yeah."

"But what if it's just a coincidence? Or what if it means Myrrgloch is returning, and Jason's gonna be the one to defeat him? We don't know enough."

"But we should keep an eye on him, just in case."

"Yeah... now tell me about this incident with you getting left high and dry with no clothes after a change."

"..."

"What were you saying about towels? Did you panic, even though you were carrying one?"

Later, some would say that closet was haunted with laughter spirits. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More on Myrrgloch (MEER-glaw) later.
> 
> Also, Ashley will continue making bad references (to the Hitchhiker's Guide, and other things) for as long as time goes on.


	3. The Party Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Canadians are throwing a party, where any Olympian can come. Jason somehow ends up at it.

The Canadians are throwing a party, a huge party everyone's invited to, and Gracie wants to go.

That basically means the whole team's gonna go.

Gracie wants to go, so Ashley's gonna go, to make her happy. Alex is gonna go because hello, it's a party, and Maia's gonna go to document his wild exploits and possibly post them on YouTube later. Polina's going because she wants to try and find some other people her own age, Jeremy's going because the girls told him he needed a little partying, and Meryl and Charlie will go to celebrate their medal and make sure no one else royally fucks up (and if they do fuck up, Mama Bear Meryl's gonna be mad... so don't fuck up).

And Jason? He's going to the party as well, because he doesn't want to have to think for a minute. He needs to forget, if only for a night, that he's some kind of shapeshifter, and that only a few days ago he spent a couple hours as a leopard.

Also, he hasn't hooked up in a while, and they don't have gay bars in Russia (obviously) so a party's probably his best bet.

He decides to go with his new clothes, the magically appearing jeans and shirt, and throw a hoodie on over them. He's grown to like them. Even though he has no idea what the symbol on the shirt means, they aren't ratty (but they're not fancy either), and they're the best fitting clothes he's ever worn; they're the most comfortable, too. It's like they were made for him. 

He leaves just as Ashley and Gracie are, and so he's resigned to feeling slightly like a third wheel (and this isn't a tricycle). Then again, he should know better than to expect anything.

Gracie takes one look at him, smirks, and says, "Your ass looks nice in those jeans."

Ashley slaps her (lightly).

Jason really needs a break.

So, an hour later, he's busy taking one, leaning up against a wall with a beer in his hand, relaxed and cheerful. He's smiling his signature exuberant grin, and he's not sober anymore, but not quite drunk yet, either. It's a pleasant feeling, and it's almost enough. Not quite, but almost.

But right now he's not really in the mood to try and pick someone up. He decides to just wait, and see how the night ends up. It's young yet. 

Two hours later, the night has gotten older, but he hasn't gotten much drunker. It's the Olympics, and Russia, and even though it probably wouldn't happen, there's still the possibility of a gay sex scandal, and _oh_ _god_ , he does not want that. 

The scandal, that is. He'd be fine with some gay sex.

He wanders through the crowd, randomly walking, not sure where he's going but pretty sure it can't hurt. He passes many making out couples, at least two poker games, three or four couples who have gone beyond just making out, and what appeared to be a game of...strip pool Uno? How does that even work?

Eventually, he makes his way outside. He leans his head against the wall and stares up at the sky. He should probably be getting back to his dorm room.

He can't see the stars.

It's not that cold out, but suddenly,  he's shivering. The pleasant feeling of relaxation and alcohol has vanished, replaced by an uneasy wariness. Something strange is nearby, something dark and ancient and he doesn't even want to know.

He can feel its eyes on him.

He's about to go inside when someone comes up next to him, leaning on the wall. The feeling of being watched vanishes, and he turns to see who it was that saved him from a _something's_ glare.

Standing next to him is a blond boy who can't be much older than Jason. He's quite a bit taller, over half a foot, with a distinctive set to his jaw and eyes of a weathered blue, seeming playful and mischievous in this light. 

He smiles and introduces himself as Olli. His English is a little broken, and his accent is strangely attractive.

Jason takes one look at him and thinks, _Oh_.

Olli smirks as Jason blatantly checks him out, and swallows the last of his beer. "Want get out of here?" he asks softly. 

Jason doesn't hesitate in saying yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason is 5'7". Olli is 6'2", so there's a world of height difference there.


	4. Finnish Hospitality and Latin Linguistics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short phrase in Latin and a one-night stand produce many doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got kinda long compared to the other ones.

The next morning, Jason wakes up in a bed that's not his own. He's a little confused at this at first, but then he remembers the events of last night: the party, the feeling of being watched, meeting Olli, and spending the night with him.

The Finn's mouth is way too talented to be allowed. 

He lies there for a few more moments, and then carefully disentangles himself from the larger man's sleeping form. It doesn't take too long to find his pants, or his shirt, although the hoodie is kind of damaged. He wanders into the bathroom, splashing water on his face and attempting to subdue his hair. Eventually he sighs and pulls his hair back into his standard ponytail. 

He runs right into Olli when he comes out of the bathroom. 

They're both a little startled, but no harm done. Olli blinks, and then smiles. " _Hi_ ," he says. Jason grins back, replying " _Hey_ ," because he can't think of anything better to say.

He's halfway across the room before he realizes they weren't speaking English. 

***

Polina's just having a nice and leisurely breakfast in the cafeteria, reading through some of her long-term homework, when she happens to notice Jason hurry in. He obviously just got back after an eventful night, judging by the tears and wrinkles in his hoodie. She carefully saves this information away. She's looking forward to teasing him later.

Then she notices that his normal happy demeanor has vanished. He seems, nervous, white with tension, and he's talking into his phone at a rapid pace. He sits down alone, at an empty table, and begins tracing patterns on the surface in front of him. 

Polina frowns. No, they can't have this. If Jason of all people is unhappy, then something's gotta be really wrong. And if she can, then shouldn't she fix this? She gets up and begins to walk over, only to stop when she gets within earshot and realizes that he's not speaking English.

"...at ne cui dicerent hoc, bene?"

_...but don't tell anyone about this, okay?_

And now she's curious. If she'd known Jason could speak Latin, she would've talked to him in it. He seems to have a very strong grasp on the language... an oddly strong grasp. 

Polina begins to wonder what's really going on here. She's getting suspicious. 

***

" _Gotta go now, Jussi's staring at me_ ," Olli says. 

" _Okay, talk later? Bye_."

" _Bye_."

Jason sits back and stares at his phone. Fucking Latin. If he had to start randomly speaking and understanding a language, why could't it be a useful language, one people actually spoke, like Spanish or Chinese or French or Russian? But no, it had to be Latin.

He jumps as the chair across from him suddenly grows a Polina. "So," she says, "was that Latin I was hearing?"

Oh shit. " _Um_..." English, ENGLISH! "No... I don't know what you're talking about."

She gives him a look like, yeah, right, we both know you're lying. "I'm educated," she smiles smugly, "in ways you'd never expect. For example, did you know that Gaeilge, Gaelic, and Gaelg are different languages? They're all Goidelic languages, stemming from Old Irish. Aren't languages amazing? And I don't know that much Latin, but I do know that's what you were speaking."

Good god. Jason shakes his head. "Okay, okay, I woke up this morning and could speak fluent Latin. I don't know how it happened. You happy?"

He can tell that the instant he leaves, she's gonna tell the others. For some reason, he finds himself not caring at all. 

But he's not gonna tell them about Olli waking up with Latin in his head too. That's not his to tell.

Oblivious to his inner dialogue, Polina nods and steers the conversation into safer waters. Jason's glad, because he can feel the tension bleeding away with each trivial word spoken. 

Eventually, he gets up to go back to his room (he hasn't taken a shower yet). Just as he's leaving, Polina says, "And you look better than you did when you walked in. You don't look like you're trying to get away with murder anymore."

Jason kind of hurries out of the cafeteria.

Once he's back in the peace and quiet of his room, he lets himself think back over the past night. The sex had been great, satisfying, and he's sore in all the right places. He'd slept soundly afterward, and awoke well rested. 

But his thoughts keep returning to Olli. The Finnish defenseman had taken the Latin epiphany much better than Jason had himself. If he'd freaked out and started panicking (in Latin, no less), Jason will never admit to it. 

He's kind of mortified that happened in front of Olli. He... well...

He likes Olli. 

He likes Olli, more than you should for a one-night stand if you want things to end happily. He likes him in a "Let's date! And make out! And probably fuck! And possibly get married and raise children and spend the rest of our lives together!" way. And with enough time and effort, and the right circumstances, he thinks it could be made to work, and work very well.

The problem is, the circumstances are all wrong, and there's not enough time. It's the Olympics, and the closing ceremony is still hurtling toward them at an undeniable pace. Also, he's from Chicago, and trains in Colorado. Olli's from Finland, and plays in Pittsburgh. They'd have, like, no time together. 

And that's assuming they even got that far.

Oh god. He's an idiot. How could this happen now?

Jason stares into the bathroom mirror and tries a smile; it looks fake. He sighs and scrubs at his eyes with one hand, holding his glasses with the other. The water he splashes on his face is cold, freshening, but not enough to wash away what he's feeling right now. 

He's screwed.

He misses the carefree days of before the Olympics. Before he accidentally changed into a leopard. Before he spontaneously began to speak a dead language.

Before he met Olli Maatta.

***

Jason spends most of the day in his room, playing Candy Crush and trying to get out of the funk he's slid into. Meryl and Charlie come by a couple times, trying to get him to come out, and he's pretty sure Polina may be staging a stakeout outside his door. 

So that's why he doesn't respond the first time there's a knock. It comes again, but he still ignores it, until it picks up a distinctive rhythm. Three short, three long, three short. 

SOS is the only bit of Morse code Jason knows, but it's enough to get him up and moving.

He opens the door to a nervous, shifting nineteen-year-old Finn, and he's suddenly reminded of how bad he must look right now. Sure, he got the necessary shower, but his ponytail's messy and he knows his eyes are red and puffy. 

"Have question," Olli mumbles, and then shakes his head and switches to Latin. _"It's important,"_ he says, but doesn't seem sure how to go on. Jason raises an eyebrow and steps back to let the blond in.

There's a long, drawn out silence, full of awkwardness and unanswered ideas. Jason's about to ask Olli why he's here when the other boy straightens up, looks at Jason, and blurts it out.

_"Will you go out with me?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both of these boys are too cute for their own good. 
> 
> Also, even though they're speaking Latin in the fic, the boys don't process it like that, and therefore it shows up here as italicized English.
> 
> There will be more linguist!Polina to come.


	5. Uncertain Certainties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First dates are always uncomfortable, but they can end in many different ways...

That night, Jason's ready a whole hour before the time they agreed upon. He paces nervously, back and forth, back and forth, wearing a path on the floor of the room. His hands fidget with the hem of his shirt (the magical clothing cleans itself, apparently, so he can wear it again and again and again) and scrub back and forth across the denim of his jeans. His mouth is dry, and he can't seem to settle down.

He runs through the talk they had one more time. They both knew it was a dangerous thing they were doing, going on a gay date in Russia in the middle of the Olympics. Neither had a death wish, or an end-of-career wish, so certain precautions had been agreed upon.

1\. Don't dress fancy.

2\. Don't go anywhere fancy.

3\. Don't act like it's a first date.

4\. Strike that, don't act like it's a date at all.

5\. No, seriously. NO ROMANTIC BEHAVIOR.

6\. If people start looking at you funny, act like you're waiting for someone else to join you.

7\. If you ignore any of these precautions, the resulting fallout is your fault.

Jason shivers. Fallout, nuclear or otherwise, is not something he wants to deal with right now. Or any time, for that matter. He notices that a few strands of hair have escaped his ponytail, and immediately hurries to the mirror to fix the offense. 

Soon, a knock comes at his door in the pattern of SOS, and he jumps. He hadn't realized how quickly time had been passing. 

Olli smiles when he says that.

***

When Jason sees their destination, he laughs. 

"You are officially a true Pittsburgher," he says. Only a true Pittsburgher could find a 'Pittsburgh' bar nine time zones away from the three rivers.

"I not true Pittsburgher," Olli replies. "That yinzer. I not say yinz."

Oh. Yeah. Jason's heard about the distinct dialect of the City of Bridges. He doesn't really understand it himself. Yinz just seems a bit strange to him. 

The food is amazing, deliciously greasy, and sooo not on any diet plan. Jason is in love with his burger. He wolfs it down, while Olli eats slowly, watching Jason.

Jason gets the urge to make a Hannibal reference.

Instead he takes another bite and remarks on how good the food is.

Olli laughs. "Eaten better," he grins. "In Pittsburgh, sandwich place... Primanti Bros. Put fries on sandwich. So good, so bad for you. Have not lived until eaten there."

Jason is having trouble imagining how fries on a sandwich tastes good.

They make small talk for a while. Olli talks about growing up in Finland, and Jason tells stories about his siblings and various mischiefs committed. Despite what he said about the Primanti sandwiches, Olli's favorite food is mushroom soup, which Jason has to admit he's never really tried.

By  the time they leave, Jason's feeling good about this. Sure, he'd been nervous, but he thinks it went well. Judging by the way Olli's grinning at him, the Finn agrees.

They walk around Sochi for a bit, watching the last remains of light fade from the sky and the street lamps click on. Jason kind of loses track of where they're going, so when they end up strolling through a huge garden, he's not sure how they got there. He feels like Olli's words deserve more of his attention than the ground under his feet. 

Out of the blue, something catches his attention. He stops walking to stare at the trail of small white pebbles snaking out of sight through the shrubbery. Olli stops, too, and then shrugs and follows as Jason starts along the path.

The bushes soon block out any light from moon, stars, or city, closing in beside the two boys. They walk close together, crowded by the briars that reach out to grab at their clothes. The towering hedges cast dark shadows across them.

Jason shivers. The darkness he's walking in is somehow colder than the night alone.

Suddenly, he gets that feeling again, the one where something's watching him. The eyes are on him again, malicious and foreboding. He's unnerved, scared, panicked, terrified. He wants to get away from this as fast as he can. 

"Let's go back now," he says, stopping in his tracks. Olli can't halt in time, running into him, and has to grab Jason to keep him upright.

"Little farther?" the Finn asks. "Light ahead." Sure enough, about a hundred yards ahead, the greenery thins and moonlight can be seen through the branches and shining in a clearing ahead.

"Okay," Jason agrees, and they start forward once more.

Soon, they're emerging from the darkness into a clearing that's really a back alley behind a building. The alleyway turns fifty yards to the left, presumably leading on to the main streets. To the right...

Jason screams.

At the end of the alley, there is a dark shape, strange and horrifying, hunched over the still body of a man. Slowly, it raises its head, bares its long, glistening fangs, lets out a low and menacing growl. It uncoils swiftly and launches itself toward them. 

They turn to sprint for the corner, but the monster is already upon them. It rams into Jason, ripping parallel tracks down his back with its fangs, and he screams again as he falls and rolls sideways, trying to dislodge the creature. Its claws leave shallow lacerations on his forearms as he reaches desperately for something, anything, to defend himself with.

His hand closes around a chunk of brick and he brings it up, once, twice, slamming it into the unprotected side of the beast's face. It rears back, screeching in pain, and then lashes out wildly, catching one claw in his hair and another in the skin below his eye. 

There's a shout, and then the beast jerks sideways, whirling around to snarl defiance at Olli, while tightening its claws in Jason's hair and shirt. He's lost his grip on the brick, and his arm has peen pinned to the cracked pavement. He can't move, he's got a monster pinning him down, he's bleeding , he's gonna die...

_"Lasair!"_

The shout echoes through the alley. It's not English or Latin, Jason realizes somewhere in the depths of his panicked mind, but it is accompanied by a blinding flash of light. The beast stumbles away, letting Jason go, and then runs to the path they came down, vanishing along the trail of pale pebbles.

As it passes, the pebbles flash obsidian black and then slowly fade back to moonlight white.

Jason can't seem to move. His muscles aren't responding, and he's hurting all over. Olli silently hurries over to help, and slowly the shaking skater makes it to his feet. He can feel blood trickling down the side of his face, leaking from the gash under his eye.

There are shouts in the distance, the sound of running, people drawn by the screams. Jason ignores them, making his way unsteadily down the alley, still using the taller boy as a support. They stop when they reach the body at the alley's end.

Olli's sharp, surprised, fearful gasp is the only sound in the whole world.

Before them lies a man, dark-haired, with a torn and tattered Finland jacket. He's barely breathing, shallow inhales and exhales that seem to hurt with every movement. There's blood pooling around him, seeping slowly through the cracks in the concrete.

Jason doesn't watch much hockey, but one of his friends had made him watch the Stanley Cup Finals last June (he'd rooted for the Hawks, of course—couldn't abandon your hometown), and he's learned enough to know that the man at his feet is Bruins (and Team Finland) goalie Tuukka Rask.

Someone comes running around the corner, shouting, asking them in Russian if they're okay.

_No, we're really not._

Jason remains silent. He stays like that while the people are asking them what happened, calling for an ambulance. He stays like that while the paramedics arrive and take them to a hospital. He stays like that while the gashes on his back and face are cleaned and stitched and his arms bandaged. 

He stays like that until Olli whispers into his hair, "Not okay, but will be."

And that, he thinks, could be the truth of the matter. Not okay, but will be... Only, will be never comes. You just have to grin and bear it.

Maybe that's why he's always smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so according to what I saw online, there really is a Pittsburgh bar in Sochi. That could possibly be false, but the idea was too good to pass up.
> 
> Rask's illness that caused him to miss the Sweden-Finland game inspired the ending for this chapter.


	6. Wings of the Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason's nightmares are keeping him from sleeping. That just means he gets up to other things in the dead of night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, this isn't porn.

Jason wakes up screaming.

He jerks upright in a cold sweat, blankets falling away as he lashes out, freeing himself from their clinging confines. His breath is coming in huge uneven gulps, and he's shaking from head to toe. He rolls over and plants his face in the pillow, trying to get his breathing under control, trying to slow his pounding heart.

If he closes his eyes, he can still see it, burned on the backs of his eyelids: the slavering jaws of the beast, stained a glistening red by human blood; claws ripping through his skin, tearing him apart; gore spattering the asphalt as he lay there, numb, unable to move, bleeding out as he watched the beast sink its fangs into the lifeless body that used to be Olli.

That's not the way it went, he knows, but it still seems so real that he's gotta use all his self control to keep himself from calling Olli to make sure he's okay. 

Well, okay is an objective term. Jason doesn't think he himself is okay at all.

That night, he'd been questioned a lot: what happened, how he got hurt, what had he seen, no, what had he really seen, why he was there, what he'd been doing wandering in that garden at night. He'd told the truth, mostly (he hadn't told the whole truth about why he and Olli were there). The hospital had decided to keep him overnight for observation, to make sure there wasn't anything poisonous on the fangs (and yes, the wounds looked more like fang and claw marks that knife marks, so he really wasn't insane).

The next morning, he'd been swarmed by family and friends assuring themselves that he really was okay, alive, and mostly whole. From them, he learned that Olli had escaped with little more than minor bruising, and that Rask would... live, although if he would ever play again was a dubious topic. He was thanked for simply getting in the monster's way, for being there, for attracting attention, because half an hour later and the goalie would've died for sure. Jason was glad that he'd helped, even if he didn't know the guy, but he still remembered how it felt to have the monster pinning him down with a bony appendage grasping his hair and a claw trailing down his face, and he was extremely relieved to be alive.

But then the nightmare came. 

This is the second night he's had that nightmare, and he's starting to get worried. He didn't get any sleep after it last night, and he doesn't think he'll be able to go back to sleep tonight. If this keeps up, he'll be dozing off in the middle of the day, and he'll get really sleep deprived. Neither of those are good things.

He sighs and climbs out of bed, padding over to the window and pulling the curtain aside. The faint light that spills into the room isn't enough to completely alleviate his fears, but it does help wash the gruesome spectacle of the dream from his mind. 

 _Only three more days,_ he thinks. In three days, he'll go home, and this will be over. No more Olympic tension. No more Mama Bear Meryl constantly watching to make sure the ordeal wasn't too much and he's not gonna break. No more worrying about that monster following him and attacking whenever he's alone. 

Then again, no more Olli.

The jarring notes of his ringtone shatter the silence of the room, and he grabs for it, picking up hurriedly when he sees it's Olli calling. What he gets, however, is a burst of rapid-fire panicky Finnish that changes to rapid-fire panicky Latin halfway through. All he gets is something about how he needs to come over, now, and a little bit about feathers. 

That confuses him a bit, but Olli's still panic-rambling on the phone, so he cuts across the vocal deluge and says that he'll be right over. He throws some clothes on, grabs his keys, and creeps out the door. 

It's easier to sneak into the Finland dorm than he thought it would be. Then again, Olli's window's open and there is a clear path up the side of the building that any climber could handle with no trouble at all.

He's not sure why Olli isn't surprised when he appears at the window instead of the door, but it might have something to do with the huge wings the same color as the Finn's hair that are flexing open and closed behind him. 

Jason must admit he's a bit speechless himself. 

 _"What... what... the hell, Olli, what happened?!"_  he exclaims in Latin.

 _"Don't know,"_ the other boy shrugs, _"woke up like this. Hurts to sleep on my back with these."_

Jason ignores the fact that Olli had actually been able to sleep.  _"Why did you think I would be a good person to call?"_ he asks.

Olli shrugs again. _"I like you,"_ he says, _"and you had the Latin thing happen to you as well, and you saw the monster, so I figured you were least likely to freak out or say we're both hallucinating."_

Jason laughs a little hysterically at that, before getting a grip on himself. _"Okay, so you have wings, we both speak Latin, and what was that word you yelled that night? The one that made a flash? Lasser something?"_

 _"Lasair?"_ Olli asks, and there's a poof as his hand spontaneously erupts into flame and extinguishes itself just as quickly, leaving him unburnt.

 _"Oh..."_ Jason says. _"...That was unexpected..."_

Olli looks sheepish.

Jason thinks for a minute, and then decides, why not? Olli already knows about the Latin stuff, and he's seen the other boy's wings, so it would kind of put them on an even footing, at least.

When he starts stripping, Olli's eyes widen, like, woah, and then they get even wider when black-spotted golden fur bursts through Jason's skin and his spine rearranges itself. 

Jason is kind of amused that, once he's done changing, the first thing Olli does is reach out and pet him. However, things become very complicated when he changes back... and finds himself sporting a pair of huge almost-chocolate-brown wings, and by huge, he means a wingspan of about seventeen feet.

Olli's are bigger, nearly nineteen feet, but that makes sense. There's more of him to get off the ground. 

The two of them trade tired looks. So much strange stuff has happened in the past few days that Jason's not even sure if he can be surprised anymore. Like that lasair thing. He'd like to know how Olli does that, or even what language it's in. 

Speaking of languages...

 _"I know someone who I think might be able to help us,"_ he says abruptly. _"Do you mind if I tell her?"_

Olli thinks about it, and then sighs. _"Why not?"_

Jason nods and pulls out his phone. _"Then I have a call to make."_

***

Polina isn't happy to be woken at such an ungodly hour, but when Jason mentions that it's about the Latin thing, she perks right up and agrees to meet them behind the Finland dorm. 

They're out there waiting, having figured out how to fold their wings so no one can see them, when she shows up. Jason gives her the full story on the Latin stuff, and then out of the blue, asks her what language lasair is and what it means.

She looks at him strangely for a moment. "How did you know that Irish is my specialty?" she asks suspiciously, and then before he can answer, goes on. "It means flame."

Olli nods. "Make sense," he rumbles.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. He means nothing. Anyway, there's something else..." Jason glances at Olli, just to make sure it's fine, and Olli nods. Go ahead.

He takes a deep breath, looks the fifteen-year-old skater/linguist in the eyes, and unfurls his wings. Polina gasps, and then gulps, her eyes the size of saucers, as Olli spreads his wings 

She takes two steps backward, crosses herself and whispers something they can't hear. Then she  looks over her shoulder, reassuring herself that they're alone, and whirls back toward them.

"You can't tell anyone else about this," she hisses, "either of you. The humans will take you and put you in a cage, or a zoo, or a lab, or something, and the other shifters... well, god knows what they'd try to do, but it wouldn't be pleasant."

"Wait, what? Why? What does this mean?"

She glances around again, checking all over to make sure no one's watching, and then leans forward and fearfully whispers a verse.

_**"Wings of the wicked, words of the wise,** _   
_**They come and call to their own demise,** _   
_**From those who fell in a demon's disguise** _   
_**Are wings of the wicked and words of the wise."** _

Then, at a rustle off to the left, she jerks away and flees, disappearing quickly into the night.

The sound of the rustle makes both boys jerk their wings in and turn to face whatever it was that made the noise. The bushes shake briefly, and then a well-known face emerges, brown eyes, dark wings, huge ass and all. 

"Uh, 's nice to see you've fledged, Olli," Sidney Crosby smiles. "But who's your friend? And why go to the shifters first?"

Jason has no idea what's being asked, but Olli looks down and mumbles, "Thought they could help..."

Crosby looks distinctly confused. "Why would the _shifters_ be able to help?" he asks disdainfully. "It's not like _they_ know anything."

And now Jason is once again confused. _"What's he talking about?"_ he asks, tugging on Olli's sleeve and sliding into Latin. 

 _"Shifters are shape-changers... I think?"_ Olli responds. _"Like you... kind of."_

_"So shifters are the figure skaters?"_

_"Wait... all figure skaters can shift?"_

_"Not all, but most."_

_"But what are you?"_

_"Uh... I'm not sure."_

_"Really?"_

"Um, what language is that?" asks a new voice, and Jason looks up to see that the recent arrival is Patrick Kane. 

"Latin," Someone else says; Jonathan Toews.

"Why're they speaking Latin?" Carey Price asks.

"Who is that?" comes from Jussi Jokinen.

"Figure skater..." Paul Martin answers, "...but shouldn't he be a shifter then?"

"Why they with shifter?" Evgeni Malkin beargrowls.

Jason spins, but there are hockey players everywhere. More keep appearing all around them, closing in, and Jason's heart is in his throat again. He reaches for Olli, grabs his hand, but it does nothing to stop the growing tide of men.

"OKAY!" 

A single shout cuts through the chaos. Everyone turns to look at the Asian woman who stands calmly, black wings open loosely behind her. She exudes a powerful confidence, an aura of surety that makes her someone you'd want to turn to in a crisis. Behind her stand two more winged women, a blond and a brunette. 

"Stupid men," the blond one snickers. This earns her a sharp word from the leader, who then turns to look at the motley gathering once more.

"Look," Julie Chu says, "They're young, they've just fledged, and it's not our place to question their origins yet. Right now, we _don't_ argue over them. We _don't_ scare them away. We _don't_ insist they spill every secret they've ever had. Instead, we welcome them. We give them someone to turn to. We show them what they'll need to know to survive in this world."

She finally looks at the two nineteen-year-olds standing side by side in the middle of the circle. 

"We teach them how to fly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, the only reason I'm using feet and yards is because Jason's narrating, he's American, and Americans measure things weirdly. If Olli were narrating, I'd use meters.


	7. It's Raining Men!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flying lessons are very interesting, but you don't get everything perfect...

Jason balances carefully on the metal beam, toes gripping it firmly and wings half spread. Below him, forty feet down, he can see the ground and the people there watching. They're staring at him, focusing on him, waiting for him to make a mistake. 

He takes a deep breath, steels his nerves, and launches himself off the beam in to the empty air. 

Immediately, he forgets everything he'd been told about how to fly. His wings snap open, already knowing what to do, catching the air under them, throwing him forward in a thrill of speed. It feels so good, it does, the freedom, the looseness, the air rushing past his face, just being able to fly. Flying is natural, in his blood, and it is also exhilarating. He snaps his wings in for a hairpin turn to avoid another rafter, and then spirals upward along the ceiling, rushing impossibly close to the angled surface. Wheeling sharply, He folds up and plummets thirty feet before opening wide again to soar up toward the beam he started from, slowing down, and _oh shit he doesn't know how to land!_

He comes in as slowly as he can, but still overbalances. He grabs the beam but can't keep his hold and falls to the padded ground below with a muffled thump. 

There's some applause, some laughter, and someone starts singing "It's Raining Men". Jason's face burns; he'd messed up. He hadn't landed properly. He'd crashed. 

There's a hand on his shoulder. He looks up; it's the brunette, Hilary.

"S' okay," she smiles ruefully. "Almost no one sticks the landing their first time. I sure didn't, flew right into a rafter. Most crash right off, don't even make it as far as you did. And for a newbie, that was some pretty fancy flying."

Jason shakes his head and laughs. He flew. _He flew._ He has wings, he flew, and it was glorious.

It's Olli's turn, now, and he turns to watch as the Finn walks out along the beam. He crouches, springs off, completes a lazy soaring circle, and then turns toward the beam and uses huge backstrokes to nearly hover so he can set down lightly. He waits a few seconds, and then glides down to land lightly on the ground. 

"Well, he's figured it out," Hilary says, and Jason feels a small kernel of embarrassment deep in his gut, but most of him is happy for the Finn.

Looking at Olli, he can now see all the ways that the hockey player's wings are different from his own. Olli's wings are broader, more rounded, thicker, well suited for soaring and stooping, whereas his own are more angular, sharper, sleeker, built for blinding speed and rapid changes in direction. He's made for swiftness and agility, but Olli's made for endurance and stamina.

The others are congratulating Olli on a perfect flight, but it's the perfect time for Jason to practice his landings. Unnoticed, he flies to a darker part of the building and lands over and over until it's instinctual to set down just so. He needs to get this right. Landing is important. 

Once he's satisfied, he settles down in a corner and begins to reorder his feathers. They had gotten a bit out of place, and ruffled feathers are annoying in the same way that when he's a leopard, he grooms obsessively to make sure he's clean... actually, he doesn't want to think about that while he's human. 

It's hard, fixing his feathers. With the way the wings are attached, there are spots he can't reach, and it's frustrating him. It's just wrong...

Suddenly, there's a hand that's not his in his feathers, fixing those spots. Jason tenses briefly, but Olli murmurs "Just me. I help, you look upset. You do me, after, ya?"

Jason nods and relaxes into the feeling of hands on his wings. It's strangely soothing, like a really skilled massage or someone reading you to sleep. He catches himself nodding off a few times, but it just feels so good, and... he's so... *yawn* ...tired...

When he wakes up, Olli is still there, sleeping against the wall. He's pulled Jason close to him, so that Jason's wings are draped over them both. It's not the best sleeping position.

 _Well, shit,_ Jason thinks, _we're gonna be sore._

He struggles to his feet, staggering a bit, and then turns when he hears a muffled giggle. It's one of the hockey players... Kane? The blond laughs again. "You two make such a cute couple! ...How have you kept it a secret? Please tell me, I need the advice."

"Um..."

"Because there's no way you two just met... No way! Really?! ...You are one lucky guy."

Jason may or may not have stopped paying attention to what he's saying. Well, he's tired and he kind of wants to go back to his room. He says as much, and Kane looks at him askance. "Why do you want to go back there? You'll be surrounded by _shifters_."

And that troubles Jason. "What do you guys have against these 'shifters' anyway? What's so bad about them?"

"They're part animal, but they're part human also, so they aren't one or the other. They don't think the same. They're lesser. Primitive." Kane leans forward and lowers his voice. " _Savages_."

Now Jason's mad. He knows these people. He knows how Meryl takes care of everyone, and Polina is an expert in all kinds of languages, and Gracie is nowhere near as innocent as she looks, and Ashley makes waaay too many science fiction references, and the boys goof off... They're his friends, and they're anything but savage.

He forces himself to keep control, and asks, "Am I a savage then?"

"No, anything but. We're blessed, man, we've got wings. We were obviously chosen for something, and that makes us superior."

And that's about as much as Jason can take. In an instant, he shifts, letting the fur wash over him. He holds it for a few seconds, and then goes back to his human skin. 

Kane is backing away, face full of horror. Now it's Jason's turn to laugh. 

"So what am I?" he sneers. "A paradox? A mistake? A grand fuck-up? A cosmic joke? Or a sign?" There's a strength, an anger, a rage coursing through him, one that had never been there before. He would be bewildered, but the rage leaves no room for that, so he simply hurtles on. "How can I be chosen and primitive at the same time?"

He steps forward, once twice, deliberately and angrily. "How am I both lesser and greater?"

The other man's wings unfold, and his hands come up, trying to put distance between him and the angry nineteen-year-old 'demon-boy'. _Hah! As if he could defend himself from my wrath._

"Abomination!" Kane yowls, and then whirls and sprints out of the building. Jason watches him go, deciding that it isn't worth it to chase such a coward. He's torn between satisfaction at Kane's hasty departure, disgust at his cowardice, and a strange, powerful yearning for a fight.

Suddenly, the rage vanishes, leaving Jason feeling drained and worried. He's exhausted, both mentally and physically, and the anger that was inside him disturbs him greatly. He doesn't like that feeling of absolute fury, of bloodlust. It's not a nice feeling; he doesn't like it at all. It isn't him, and that leaves him to wonder...

Where did it come from?


	8. Ending and Going On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashley and Gracie get Jason drunk and make him tell them everything... well, almost everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drunk!Jason, drunk!Gracie, drunk!Ashley. It's not Jason's fault.

Jason's not sure why he ever decided to go talk to the girls, but he's beginning to regret it. Ashley has alcohol, they've gotten him drunk, and he's just spilled most of what happened to him these past few days in detail.

Thankfully, he's managed to leave some parts (about what he and Olli have done at night) out. 

"And then," he slurs, "I don' even know, i's like I got really angry and bloodthirsty, 'xcept i's no' me, y'know? I's really scary, I mean, i' fel' like I wasn' in control o' my own body. Like sumthin' else was in my own skin." He takes another sip and shudders. "Creepy shit."

Gracie nods. "Soun's creepy, sure 'nuff."

"Wha' happen' then?" Ashley asks.

"Well, I show 'im my other form, say some shit abou' bein' lesser an' greater a' the same time, an' he freaks, calls me a 'bomination, an' runs 'way." He pauses for a moment, takes another sip, and then mutters, "Coward."

The girls nod sagely, and then Ashley snickers. "He jus' ran? An' he calls 'imself 'blessed'."

"Jus' proves we were righ' all 'long, don' i'? Wings o' the wicke', words o' the wise..."

Jason shakes his head at that. "No, tha' ain' righ'. They ain' wicke' by nature, jus' like we ain' savages bu' if we was raised wrong, we could be. They're jus' taugh' wrong, don' know any better."

"Could be i'," Gracie says. "Or maybe 's all jus' a misunders'andin'. Like if we took time t' ge' t' know 'em, maybe there woul'n't be such a rif' between us."

Ashley shakes her head. "Ahh, this ain' any fun. Le's save i' for the mornin'."

They switch the topic of conversation to something else, and Jason is somewhat glad, because it means he can stop parsing his words and worrying about what he might say. 

The next morning, he's got a raging hangover and the knowledge that tomorrow's the last day in Sochi. Neither of those are pleasant things. 

The knock on his door is not pleasant either. He hauls it open and then blinks, certain he's seeing things, because he did not expect to voluntarily see Patrick Kane ever again. 

"Sorry I was an ass," Kane mumbles. "I wasn't thinking."

And now Jason notices that behind Kane, Toews is standing with a facial expression that he can't begin to describe. It's got some anger, some disappointment, some seriousness, and something that can only be expressed by the words 'be better'.

"Um, thanks?" Jason says. He's not really sure how to respond, especially because he suspects that Toews is forcing Kane to apologize, but it still makes him feel a bit better.

"Um, so yeah. Bye," Kane says and then hurries away. Toews rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, and then leaves too. 

So that was weird...

***

Jason spends most of the day trying to find Olli. He looks everywhere, but the Finn remains elusive. 

He finally gets a clue when he (literally) runs into Paul Martin. When Jason asks if he knows where Olli is, the Minnesotan looks down at him and then laughs. "Looking for you. You've been running in circles, missing each other."

"Oh," and Jason has to admit, that is a bit funny. But also, he's relieved that Paul isn't treating him like an evil thing, or the next savior, like some of the hockey players are. 

Crosby fangirling is a weird sight. 

Eventually, Jason manages to find Olli, and wishes him luck in the bronze medal game. As he says, "Then we'd match."

And his wish works. Well, it probably has nothing to do with that, but Finland takes the bronze, and then it's a frenzied rush of goodbyes and promises to keep in touch and the closing ceremony and flights back to the US...

And then Jason is left alone, standing in the middle of an import, staring at his phone and wondering if the call he yearns for will ever come.

_Ring, ring!!!_

"Hello?" 

Turns out, he doesn't have long to wait. 


	9. Watching Hockey with the Sound Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Stadium Series. Penguins v. Blackhawks. Afterward, Jason and Olli meet up.

It's snowing.

Jason can't say he's pleased about that. He doesn't think that snow will be very conducive to tonight's preferred activities. Even though he's going to be watching from the comfort of his couch, it's an outdoor game, and he shudders to think of what snow on the ice surface would do. 

He prefers skating inside, thank you very much. 

But he still wants to watch the game. And root for both teams, because he can't abandon his hometown, but he can't root against Olli. 

He's determined to be loyal to his boyfriend. 

***

Jordan, Jason's older sister, is a bit puzzled about why he wants to watch the game. He hasn't really shown that much interest in hockey before, and while his simple answer 'Sochi opened my eyes' is probably true, it's not very helpful. 

But something has changed about Jason, she can't deny that. He's quieter, more pensive, and checks his phone a lot more often than he used to. There's someone he's constantly texting, and when she steals his phone, she finds an unfamiliar number from the 412, labeled only with 'Olli'. 

When she googles Olli, she finds something called the 'Osher Lifelong Learning Institute' (which is for people over 50 who want to take college-like courses, so that's out), 'Olli Salumeria', which is an organic salami company (she reeaally hopes it isn't that), and a hockey player named Olli Maatta. 

Hmm. That sounds promising. He plays for the Penguins, so that explains her brother's sudden interest in this game in particular. And yep, he was in Sochi. And he medaled there, bronze. And he's also nineteen. 

Now it comes back to her: that scary night, the one where Jason had been attacked by...whatever monster that was... the other teenager who'd been with him had been named Olli... Olli Maatta. 

So Jason hadn't just gotten lost...

Now, because she's nice, she's not going to tell their parents or anything. Also, it's blackmail material for, like, forever, so no way is she giving this up. But it's just...

Jason's got a boyfriend. 

And they're both nineteen, and probably somewhat horny, at least, and had plenty of opportunities in Sochi...

No. 

There are some things you don't want to think about your little brother doing.

***

The Blackhawks win, 5-1, and it feels good as a loyal Chicago native.

But that also means the Penguins lose.

The Penguins lose, 5-1, and as they're heading off the ice, some cameraman decides to take shots of their faces. There is pure sadness written all across Olli's face, and suddenly there's a bitter taste in Jason's mouth. Maybe he's not such a loyal Chicago native after all. 

And yep, that same stupid cameraman is still focusing on the dejected faces of the losing team, and Jason can't take anymore close-ups of Olli's sad visage. He gets up and turns the TV off.

Then he goes to his room, does some pacing, and shoots off a couple texts. He gets a reply to one almost instantly, but the other takes some time coming in. When he sees that response, he smiles; it's just what he'd wanted. Also, even if it had been a different answer, anything from that number would make him smile. 

He grabs his coat and gets in his car, driving to the address he'd been given, and then parks and waits outside. He watches as the bus pulls up and despondent hockey players spill out onto the pavement and through the hotel doors... until one of them looks up, sees Jason, and peels away from the others to make his way over to him. 

"Hey," Olli says, voice a bit hoarse, and Jason pulls him into a hug. He can feel the other boy's exhaustion in the way the Finn leans on him.

Olli switches to Latin and whispers, _"I think one of the trainers isn't human."_

_"What's he done?"_

_"There's a small Satanic altar that he put up in an empty closet back at Consol. Also, everything he drinks has red dye in it, he stinks like something from hell, and every time I go near him, my senses start screaming 'get away!', and it's freaking me out."_

_"Okay... I, uh, don't know if demons really exist, but..."_

_"I'll keep an eye on him. Also, I found out that I can change into a gyrfalcon."_

_"Wait, what?!"_

_"Um, yeah?"_

_"...So you're a shifter-wing cross too?"_

_"Yeah, I guess..."_

Jason shakes is head. _"I... I..."_

Olli grins. _"It's okay, you don't have to think about it now. Let's go do something else instead."_ He proceeds to make a hand gesture that makes it very clear what 'something else' is.

And that, Jason thinks, is an idea he can get behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 412 is Pittsburgh's area code.
> 
> And yes, those are the actual search results I got for 'Olli'. The organic salami company cracks me up every time.


	10. Redamancy Not Required

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Joshua.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, Joshua, but you should never trust an evil demon lady.
> 
> Especially if she doesn't tell you she's an evil demon lady.

It's finally getting a bit warmer outside, and Jason is a bit relieved. He likes winter, sure he does, but this one has been long and trying, with many harsh snowfalls and frigid nights. It's nice to finally be able to expect some sun. 

However, when he wakes up that morning, he does not expect to open the door and find Joshua. 

It's a lazy day, a day off, and Jason really wasn't planning to do anything, so it's perfectly fine. In fact, he's glad for Josh's company. He was getting bored.

Josh seems perfectly fine with just hanging out, but Jason keeps getting the impression that something's bothering him. He keeps looking at Jason when he thinks the other boy isn't watching, and there's an air about him that Jason just can't place.

His suspicions are confirmed when they go to get a healthy lunch, and Josh keeps fidgeting. The other skater is still giving him those looks out of the corner of his eye, and it's making Jason feel weird. 

Finally, his curiosity limit is reached and he has to ask Josh what's wrong. "Did you... rob a bank? Murder a competitor? Bribe a judge? Seduce a family member? Sacrifice a pig to the pagan gods?"

Jason has no idea where that last one came from, and it makes him laugh. Josh laughs too, and then they're cracking up, loud chortles and chuckles that have other people out in the park staring at them and taking the long way around.

Once they've gotten themselves back under control, Josh replies, "I have not slaughtered any animals lately, nor have I committed incest, theft, homicide, or bribery. I am not a wanted man-"

Jason snorts.

"-and I have not perpetrated a felony... in the past six months."

"In the past six months?!?!?!?"

Josh shrugs. "All right, in the past nineteen years."

"That's better." Jason is very relieved that he's not sitting next to a secret criminal. But his original curiosity is still there, and so he says, "But no, seriously, what's happened?"

And suddenly Josh is looking down, around, all over the place, anywhere but Jason. He's got anxiety written all over his face, and then he looks up, meets Jason's eyes, and hurriedly stammered out a mumbled question.

"I'm sorry, what?" Jason asks. He hadn't heard what Josh had said.

"I said, d'you wanna go on a date with me?"

Jason is blindsided by the question. Joshua? Honestly, he'd never considered that... and he's having trouble imagining it. Besides, there's Olli, and he can't date two people at once. 

But how to say that?

"Joshua..." he begins, "I'm sorry. I like you, but not in that way, and I... I already have a boyfriend. I'm... I'm sorry, but I have to say no."

Joshua's shoulders slump, and he looks away. "It's all right," he murmurs desolately. "I didn't really expect it to work anyway..."

At that sight, Jason feels utterly awful. How could he be this person, breaking his friend's heart? What kind of friend does that make him? 

He's never been good at comforting people. Cheering them up, yeah, he could do that, but actually helping them when they've just gotten bad news is not his forte. Also, here it's even worse, because he's the cause of the bad news. 

"I'm..." he says awkwardly, but Josh mutters "It never happened, let's just forget about this shit."

Jason isn't sure if he can do that, but Josh seems to be doing just that. They don't talk about it for the rest of the afternoon, and Josh puts forward a pretty good face, so that the goodbye is somewhat normal. But once Josh is gone, Jason's thoughts return to that, and he feels shitty all over again. 

He picks up his phone and starts to text Olli. 

***

Josh sits on the curb a few blocks away, one leg bent, the other straight. His head is bowed, his shoulders slumped, and his hand traces meaningless patterns on the concrete. He wishes he hadn't decided to make a move. If he hadn't, he could've kept his hopes alive.

His heart feels like it's been trampled on and ripped into myriads of fragments. 

The worst part is that he knows Jason didn't want to hurt him. He could tell that the other boy had felt bad about turning him down. But that hurts more, because it means that if maybe, just maybe, he'd made a move earlier, before Jason got involved with another guy, maybe it would've worked out. 

He's not sure how long he sits there. The sun sets, streetlights begin shining, stars come out, and traffic starts to fade. A chill settles over the world, the shadows of night drinking deep in the silent time, and still he remains.

Suddenly, someone sits down next to him. He looks up, startled, and finds a woman, early to mid thirties, holding a cigarette and smiling bitterly. She's wearing a light jacket and dark pants, and there's a deep sadness in her eyes that seems to mirror what he's feeling exactly. 

"Rejec'ed, huh?" She sighs. "Ahh, yeh'll 'ave anuther opp'tuni'y a' sum poin'. Young uns, han'some uns, yeh always do."

He nods. Even though he doesn't know her at all, she doesn't seem like she's gonna hurt him, and besides, he's not exactly thinking rationally right now. 

"Yeah," he says. "There was someone else already."

"S'olen frum yeh, huh? Ah know haw i' feels. Ah had mahself a man, once, bu' 'e got s'olen frum me. 'e got s'olen by a black shroud, tha' creepin' sleep yeh c'n't take nobody back frum." She looks at him sharply. "Yeh c'n still get 'er back... or 'im. Thief c'n't keep 'is hold f'rever, an' then yer gonna be there, waiting ter make a move. 'S the patien' uns who win."

Josh sighs and nods. "I guess..."

She turns and looks at him, really looks at him this time, staring deep into his soul, and then she smiles, looking satisfied at what she's seen. "Tell yeh what," she smirks, "ah think we cauld help each uther. Yeh wan' yer guy, an' ah wan' my guy... Ah cauld getcha yer guy, if yeh'd help me raise mine."

He's wary of the offer. How would he be able to help some strange woman raise her dead husband/boyfriend? It didn't make sense. Besides, he didn't believe necromancy was a thing, so...

She extends her hand, and all of a sudden there's a cloud of mist floating above it. She clucks, and the mist forms itself into a screen, on which he can see...

Jason. 

Jason, in bed, asleep, deep in dreamland, tossing and turning. Jason, looking troubled and worried, so much so that all Josh wants to do is reach out and hold him, chase the nightmares away with sweet kisses and the comfort of being there.

But it's only a mist screen, and his hand goes right through it when he reaches out. 

The woman tuts sympathetically. "Ah'm no' e'rythin' ah seem, an' sumtimes ah'm more. But ah'll need yer help fer this, so ah'll make yeh a bargain: yeh help me, an' ah'll get yeh yer man. Howzat?"

Josh considers for a minute. Again, he doesn't know this person, or what her guy's like, or what they've done, or even what kind of magic this is, because it sure isn't shifter magic. Then again, it's real magic, and it could get him Jason...

And then he wouldn't be broken inside anymore.

"Okay," he says. "I'll take it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The woman's accent is intentional, misspelled on purpose.


	11. The Gift of Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the others thought Paul had gone crazy, but Jason's gotta admit he had the right idea when he said that Olli and Jason needed to learn how to defend themselves.

In early June, Jason gets a package with a sword in it. 

It's a beautiful sword, shorter than average, thinner, elegant yet still very much purposeful. There are Celtic designs weaving across the hilt, and the blade is a shimmering high-quality steel with a wavy bluish property. It's strong, and yet appears dainty, and despite being a deadly weapon, Jason can't help but think that you could call it art, and none of that 'modern' shit, but real, beautiful art.

There's just one problem. It is a deadly weapon, and Jason has no idea how to use it. 

He looks all throughout the box it came in, and comes up with a sheath, a sword belt, and various materials for keeping it clean and sharp. There's also a crumpled, handwritten note folded inside the sheath.

It reads:

 

> Here's a little something.   
>  It might help you in the   
>  coming months. It'd be  
>  a good idea to learn how  
>  to use it. You may seem  
>  safe, but there are monsters  
>  lurking in the shadows. -P

This bothers Jason. Who's P? How does he know there are monsters? More importantly, why does he care?

He does what he's gotten used to doing with strange things: he calls Olli to talk about it. This time, however, Olli knows all the answers.

 _"Oh, that's Paul. He gave me a sword, too. The others think he's mad, that it's either crazy that we'd need to know how to defend ourselves, or crazy that we should be able to defend ourselves."_ Olli thinks for a minute. _"Well, Nealer doesn't think he's crazy, but Nealer can never find fault in Paulie."_

Jason giggles. _"Why send it to me like a crazy person though? All anonymously and with the cryptic note?"_

He can feel Olli's smile in the way the other boy huffs. _"I don't know, why don't I ask him?"_ he says,and then, switching to English, calls out, "Paulie! Why you act like crazy person?"

"Which time?" is the response that echoes over the phone. 

"Cryptic note!"

"Oh, that was 'cause everyone said I was crazy to do that anyway, so I decided to go through with it as if I actually was. Sorry if it scared him."

"Okay!" _"You hear that, Jase?"_

_"Yeah, I heard. Anything else?"_

_"We think you should come to Pittsburgh for  a few days. Paulie's sister's coming in, and she's really good with swords."_

Jason pretends to think it over. Hmm, go to Pittsburgh, spend time with his boyfriend, why not? _"Okay,"_ he agrees, and then jokingly tacks on, " _but only if you take me sightseeing."_

Olli laughs. _"I will take you around Pittsburgh if you come. And maybe someday, you can return the favor in Chicago."_

So Jason begins to pack. He plans his trip, organizes his schedule, goes online to buy a ticket (only to find someone's already bought him one), and altogether tries to keep his excitement under wraps. 

The day draws closer, June 12, and Jason's excited. He's at the airport almost an hour early that morning, and he fidgets throughout the flight, wishing the plane onward, as if his words could make it faster.

And then he's stepping off the plane into Pittsburgh International and heading to baggage claim. He gets his bag, and then a familiar chuckle makes him look up. 

And there's Olli.

Then they're in each other's arms, and all is right in the world.


	12. Hotel Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason's first evening and morning in Pittsburgh.

From the airport, they drive to Jason's hotel. Well, really it's Jussi driving, because Olli doesn't have a license in America and begs rides from the other Finn. Jussi just sighs and smiles about it, wondering aloud how the two 'kids' have so much energy. 

When they pull up at the hotel, the Finns help Jason with is luggage (even though he didn't bring much, so he doesn't really need help). Olli makes it obvious that he intends to stay with Jason for a while.

As Jussi leaves, he asks Olli a few questions in Finnish. Olli responds in kind, seeming more and more exasperated. Finally, he switches to English and loudly whines "Mo-ther!"

Jussi chuckles and leaves, telling Jason to take care of the Penguins' 'baby Finn'. Jason can't help but laugh at that, while Olli turns a bright red. 

 _"What was he asking you?"_ Jason asks once he's got his giggles under control. 

 _"Um… it was... nothing, Jase."_ Olli turns red again, and Jason raises an eyebrow at him, but there's no explanation forthcoming.

And there's another thing to think about. _Jase_. As nicknames go, it's pretty tame, but it's not just a nickname. It's what Olli calls him, and Jason likes it. He likes it when Olli says his name, and this, Jase, is by extension his name. 

Jase. 

He rolls the word over in his mouth, tasting and testing the syllable to determine its agreeability. It's short, crisp, harsh and smooth at the same time. Much better than Jazz, or Brownie, or Ponytail, nicknames he's all had at some point or another. 

Jase.

He's jolted out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder and a featherlight kiss on his collarbone. "Too much thinking," Olli murmurs, trailing small bites up his neck. "Not think for minute. Take your mind off outside. You here, make most of it."

And Jason, turning around to kiss Olli and press himself fully against the blond, has every intention of doing just that. 

***

The next day, Jason sleeps in. He's still behind, internal clock keyed to a different time zone, and eventually what wakes him is Olli gently shaking him awake, and then bodily lifting the smaller boy, slinging him over his shoulder, and carrying him into the bathroom. Jason protests sleepily, until he gets a faceful of cold water and jolts fully awake. 

"Gaah!"

Olli snickers at Jason's spluttered indignation, and then hands him a towel. "Is only water, Jase, will not melt. Wake you up."

Jason scowls silently but accepts the towel. He doesn't bother to kick Olli out while he's getting ready for the day; there's no point, and the Finn's seen him naked enough times now that he doesn't care anymore. 

Per Olli's instructions, he makes sure to wear clothes that are easy to move in. He also brings the sword, which he's honestly not sure how he got on the plane, but… 

They end up outside a nondescript red-brick building with small windows and a fairly imposing entryway. It looks like it used to be a school, but seems to have been empty for some time. 

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Jason asks. Olli nods and smiles. "Been here before," he says.

When they push the door open, it creaks rustily, and Jason shivers. Olli doesn't pause, though, and heads straight to the stairs. Jason hurries up, sticks close behind him, not wanting to get left alone in this creepy building. 

Down, down, down they head, switching from the main stairwell to a side one, down into the basement. At the bottom of the stairs, Olli halts, looks around, types a passcode on a keypad by the locked door, and then heads down a dimly lit hallway.

They stop in front of a blue steel door that looks completely out of place in the musty hallway. Olli types in a code again, and the door swings open smoothly and silently.

Behind it, there is a huge room with bright white lights shining from the ceiling. One corner of the room is covered with mats, like it's meant to practice unarmed combat. There's also a climbing wall, a cargo net, an obstacle course and various challenges. There's a computer set up in the third corner, with moving holograms that could be made into fighting scenarios, and a variety of semi-virtualized weapons to be used in it. In the fourth corner...

The sound of steel on steel rings through the air, echoing around and around. Jason jumps and whirls to see that in the fourth corner, two people (Paul and a woman who he guesses is Sarah) are watching as a blur in the center of the open space spins and contorts in a whirlwind of fury. If he concentrates, he can see two people sparring at a mind-numbing speed. One is holding a sword, the other an axe. 

There's a burst of clashes, and they briefly spring apart to catch their breath and study the other for signs of weakness. Then the axeman lunges forward, feinting right and then bringing the curved blade around to the left in a swinging circle aiming for the swordsman's ribs. The swordsman anticipates the move, however, and springs sideways, hooking the axe on his sword and twisting the attacker around. The axeman slips his weapon free and moves in again, but the swordsman kicks out and knocks the axeman's legs out from under him, and both fall to the floor. The swordsman wrenches the axe away from the other guy and presses his blade against the man's throat. 

There is complete and utter silence, and then the pinned man raises his hands and coughs "I yield."

The swordsman stands up and moves away, smiling slightly as he watches his opponent stagger upright. They're both covered in sweat, breathing fairly heavily, and the loser leans lightly on his weapon. Now Jason can see that the weapons were blunt practice tools, incapable of doing bloody damage but still able to break bones. 

The dark-haired axeman is James Neal. That's somewhat expected. After all, Paul and James are strangely close. Olli has told him some interesting things.

The blond swordsman is… and now Jason is seeing things, because there's no way that Evgeni Plushenko is actually here. It's impossible. A dream.

Except he just watched Plushenko defeat a hockey player in single combat, so...

And then the Russian looks up and sees them. He smiles thinly.

"Welcome, and prepare to do battle."


	13. Practice and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swordplay isn't Jason's forte… but he's insanely good with knives.

When the door to the armory opens, Jason's jaw drops.

"Wh… wha… what? How? Why?"

 _What_ is weapons, lots and lots of weapons, all over the walls, from ceiling to floor. _How_ is centuries worth of stockpiling, people preparing for a battle they feared they'd have to fight someday. _Why_ is so that if they were ever needed, they'd be there. At least, that's how Sarah explains it to him. 

“But why in Pittsburgh?”

“There are others, around the world, and this is only a small one. If you want to see a real stronghold, go to Dublin. The one there’s impressive. This has nothing on it.”

"Come, choose your weapon, we are wasting time!" Plushenko interrupts, and that’s the end of that.

Jason spends the next two days being shunted from weapon to weapon. He tries broadsword, saber, rapier, spear, axe, trident, crossbow, longbow, recurve bow, mace, flail, even sling, but none of them seem right. They all seem too... _big_. 

He mentions this to Paul, who frowns and then vanishes into the armory. The ginger emerges a few moments later, pushing a rack that has something he can’t quite see on it… until he can see it.

Knives.

Lots and lots of knives.

Jason doesn’t even realize he’s moved until he’s standing in front of the rack, but hey, they told him to pick a weapon. He reaches out and picks up a knife, a short, squat dagger, but the balance is off (and he’s not sure how he knows that), so he puts it back. He picks up another, longer and thinner, almost too long to be a knife but too short to be a sword, and this one’s perfect.

He steps back a few paces, and then turns and focuses at the targets on the other side of the room, where Plushy and Nealer are trying to teach Olli how to throw a spear (with little success; Olli’s much better with a sword). Jason closes his eyes, seeing the targets behind the lids, memorizing exactly where he wants the knife to go. Then, still focusing on it, he seeks the tiny metaphorical seed within him that’s been there since the strange rage that took hold of him in Sochi, and calls to it.

Almost instantly there’s a dramatic change. He feels a power run through him, much more controlled this time, and suddenly the knife seems alive in his hand. His body knows exactly what to do: he pivots, draws his arm back, and then throws.

Nealer had just landed a spear in the target’s center; Jason’s throw splits the wooden shaft straight down the middle.

And now he’s got everyone looking at him, staring at him in awe and surprise. Plushy turns, walks to the target, and yanks the knife out of it. He actually has to yank, because it’s buried hilt-deep in the cork-and-foam target. 

He hands Jason a practice knife, and then leads him over to the armed combat area. The others trail along, until Plushy beckons Nealer forward.

“Couldn’t beat me, but think you can beat him?” he asks the Canadian.

Nealer smiles. “Hell yeah,” he says.

Plushy nods and then steps away. Jason’s still trying to figure out what’s going on when Nealer brings his blunt practice axe down in a vicious sweep toward his side.

Jason doesn’t even think. He leaps sideways, letting his panic go and instincts take over. Then he hooks the blade of the axe on the knife and uses his free hand to punch Nealer in the gut.

Behind him, he can heal Paul laughing.

Nealer fights smarter after that, but it isn’t much of a contest. Jason simply lets his conscious mind yield to the power within him, turning into a whirlwind of determined warrior, and before long, he’s pinned Nealer to the floor, blade at his throat. Nealer yields, embarrassed at having been beat by a newbie, and Jason only allows himself a moment of satisfaction, then a moment of confusion, before he turns to Plushy and asks, "Wanna try your luck?"

The Russian smiles. "No. Earlier I was not so certain, but I suspected, and I would not be such a fool as to cross blades with the mighty Coryllewn."

"What's a coryllewn?" Jason asks. Just when he thinks he understands something, everyone has to go throw something new in there. It's frustrating. 

Plushy looks at him strangely and then turns to Paul and Sarah. "You have been lax, not teaching them their history," he reprimands.

"No, actually, I'm with the kids on this one," Paul says. "What's a coryllewn?"

And now Plushy seems confused. "Did all you Americans forget the legends? Do you not remember the Epic of Rakel?"

"Hey!" Nealer protests. "I'm Canadian!"

Plushy shrugs. "Same thing."

Paul looks slightly cautious. "I've heard of Rakel, but I've never heard this Epic…"

"I never hear of Rakel," Olli contributes.

"How do you not know this?! It is important history!" Plushy now looks outraged. He slips into Russian, muttering angrily under his breath. 

"Well, why don't you tell it to us?" Sarah suggests.

The retired skater hesitates, and then shrugs. "Listen closely. I do not repeat myself…"


	14. The Epic of Rakel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are stories, and then there are legends, and then there are prophecies, and then there's magic.

"The world was in shadow, the continents cold.

The earth was ensnared by an ancient made bold.

In a land without light, the dark stayed the same.

A hero was called for, but nobody came.

A thick sheet of black ice surrounded the sun.

The people lost hope in a battle not won.

No one could muster the courage to fight,

And the land was left ruled by the black nameless night.

 

The darkness surrounded the earth like a cloud.

The moon and the stars could not pierce through that shroud.

The Earth Mother slumbered obliviously,

And the fire in her heart was stilled by that black sea.

The Mora, bright moon, feared the cold creeping night.

She knew of a time when the world had been light,

When her sisters brought forth the first of the kin,

And the darkness had yet to come forth, yet to win.

 

Even in shadow, the moon gave up not. 

Light was a hope that was never forgot.

Though her sisters were sleeping, the sun and the earth,

Bright moon remembered how much faith was worth.

Mora swore to defeat the cold ancient dark.

She gathered the stars and created a spark

And soon to the black land below he came:

The son of the stars. Rakel was his name.

 

His wings were pure white framed against the dark sky.

His fire made him shine like a sun soaring high,

But he was alone in a world without light,

And he longed for the day he would vanquish the night.

He had come to liberate, to take this world back,

But he knew that the people were scared of the black.

So, as if to prove that he was the one,

The starchild Rakel broke the ice on the sun.

 

The sun’s rays once more enlightened the world,

But the haze of dark would not give up its hold.

With his fire, Rakel scorched a path through the cloud,

But even his fire could not end that dark shroud.

He knew he could not destroy all of the night,

So he challenged the dark to an ending-all fight

And out of the blackness his enemy came:

Son of mindless destruction. Myrrgloch was his name.

 

The nothing man was a shadow of the star

The darkness blurring, distorting, to mar

The black bat-like wings, thrown open with a cry!

The fury of the fighters rent apart the great sky. 

The battle was long, hard fought and hard won,

But Rakel had the aid of the newly freed sun.

At the end of the night, the dark fled at last,

But the starchild Rakel lay dying, life past.

 

He whispered, 'The darkness is gone, but not ended.

To keep the world safe, it must be defended.

The nameless will try to return someday;

If They are to succeed, you must keep It at bay

Until They can come and finish the fight,

Until Coryll and Morynn can vanquish the night.'

And there, with the mourning moon by his side,

The starchild Rakel spake thus, and died.

 

The stars could not bear to watch their son die.

They lifted his spirit to their palace up high,

Where dying stars stayed while their manganese burned

And their shadows remained as the years onward turned.

They lavished Rakel with a hero's reward,

They gave him their treasures and hung up his sword.

In his life after death, Rakel's troubles did cease,

And his years in the stars were long years of peace.

 

The darkness was fragmented, banished, defeated,

But it was a cycle that could be repeated.

In each conscious soul was a sliver of dark, 

And that tiny black sliver would leave a great mark.

Mora alone saw what the world needed:

A strong arm to guard them. A voice to be heeded.

She gathered all life for this last innovation,

And she made the beings to preserve all creation.

 

Mora was pleased with the beings she'd made.

They were good for their duty and acted unpaid.

She taught them to feel, to love and to care,

She taught them to grow, to fight and to share,

She taught them to learn, to know and to see,

And when they were ready, Mora set them free.

For if they were to guard against threats yet to pass,

The Children of the Moon must be free, free at last.

 

But there will be a time when nameless comes again.

The angels will fall into damnation's den

The ancient evil will again make a threat

Darkness shall cover the land. And yet...

Out of the shadows, a fire will appear,

A beacon of hope, saying "Light! Gather here!"

Coryll and Morynn will singe the very winds—

And the battle will come… the war will begin."

 

 

 

"So Coryll is short for Coryllewn?" Jason asks hesitantly.

"Who is Morynn?" Olli wonders.

"Morynn is short for Morynnon. I hope to find out who Morynn is soon." Plushy smiles thinly. Then he looks at Olli and barks, "Summon a flower. Now."

"Kind?"

"Any."

Olli hesitates and then whispers, " _Ardaigh_ ," and suddenly there's a rose in his hand. 

Plushy nods, satisfied. "As I thought."

"Wait… what is this?" Paul and Sarah ask, eerily in sync.

"Yeah, what are you talking about? Where'd you get that story?" Nealer frowns.

Plushy sighs, exasperated. "The 'story', as you put it, is an ancient one, from before Rome, before Egypt, nearly 20,000 years old. It originated on an island off the coast of what is Norway today; the island is no longer there, but the legend remains. Coryllewn is a mighty warrior that was prophesied in the legend, who would have the fighting prowess of a warrior god, but the mind and body of a human, and Morynnon is a mighty sorcerer who would have the human body and mind, yet the magical prowess of a sorcerer god."

"Wait, so I'm an ancient prophecy?" Jason is thoroughly confused once more. "And Olli is too?"

"Yes."

"Um…"

"Coryllewn, the Hunter, and Morynnon, the Mage, are destined to fight Myrrgloch, the Shade, in a final battle that will either guide the world into a new age, or end it altogether. There is no avoiding it. The battle will come; the outcome is up to you."

Jason gulps. So, basically, the world is resting on his shoulders; well, his and Olli's. 

He looks over, meeting Olli's eyes, and is both scared and relieved that the same nervousness he feels is mirrored on his boyfriend's face.

"So what are we going to do?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are the characters as the legend portrays them. They may not be this way in real life.
> 
>  
> 
> Coryllewn (KOR-ill-yewn) — the Hunter, prophesied being with great fighting abilities
> 
> Morynnon (MORE-yin-non) — the Mage, prophesied being with great sorcerous abilities
> 
> Suha (SUE-hah) — the sun goddess, the first third of an ancient trinity, represented birth
> 
> Trema (TRAY-mah) — the earth goddess, the middle third of the ancient trinity, represented life
> 
> Mora (MORE-ah) —the moon goddess, the last third of the ancient trinity, represented death and rebirth
> 
> Rakel (raw-KELL) — the starchild, often likened to an angel, who defeated Myrrgloch the first time around
> 
> Myrrgloch (MEER-glaw) — evil darkness being, like a god, who tried and failed to take over the world in ancient times, yet is foretold to try again at some point


	15. A Darkened Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been months since Josh accepted the woman's offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I should put some warnings for this one… okay… kidnapping… bodily harm (unresisted)… a character under a spell… yeah. Not a happy chapter.

The rain is coming down in sheets, pelting hard against the pavement. Josh pulls his hood up higher, trying to shield his face from the stinging droplets, but the coat has long since soaked through. He can't move, though, or that would defeat the purpose of hours sitting here.

He's waiting.

He shifts slightly, somewhat wishing he could just leave, but he knows he can't. He hasn't gone anywhere by daylight without a disguise in the past three months, and these rare excursions at night where he's allowed out are a blessing. Just the feeling of rain on his real skin is a relief. But he doesn't want to think about it now. He's busy.

He's waiting. 

Finally, a woman turns the corner at the end of the street, holding an umbrella ineffectively over her. She's not looking up, and doesn't even see him as he drops silently to the sidewalk from his perch. By the time he's noticed, it's too late; her wings spring open, but he's already stabbed the syringe full of sedative into her arm. 

He lets her run, lets her fly; he knows she won't get far with the drugs in her. Sure enough, she barely makes it twenty yards before her legs and wings give out. 

By the time he reaches her body, she's sleeping deeply, out of it. He kneels and lifts her, throwing her over his shoulder, and starts off into the night. 

The next day, Hilary Knight is nowhere to be found.

***

When Josh gets back to the manse, his shoulders are starting to get sore. He deposits Knight in one of the basement cells, and then makes his way up the servant stairwell to the upper floor. He uses the servant staircase, because that's what Lady Nyernoch insists upon and, after all, he's only a dirty mortal, a shifter. He's nowhere near the spiritual elegance the Lady, and even her other minions, achieve.

Somewhere deep inside him, there's a voice crying out that it's false, that their 'elegance' is actually diabolic, that he should get out of there, but that voice is swallowed up by a soundless pit behind his heart.

He knocks on the door to the study. When it swings open of its own accord, he takes two steps into the room and bows deeply. Then he walks forward to the center of the room, where he kneels, baring the back of his neck. "Lady, the woman Knight is in the cells below."

"Excellent. Good work, Joshua. With that little bit of business taken care of, we will finally be able to raise my husband." She's lost the accent she had at their first encounter, her voice soft and cultured and immeasurably intelligent. 

"And then I get Jason?" His words, which at some other point would have been filled with hope, are quiet and flat.

The lady tuts sympathetically. "I am afraid that can no longer be done. Jason Brown has become a considerable threat to the well-being of this earth and must therefore be eliminated."

And somehow, it's those words that finally get through.

"What?!" His head jolts up. "But you can't! You can't kill Jason!" For the first time in months, there's emotion, anger and passion, in his voice.

Lady Nyernoch sighs. "Sometimes, if you want the world to go on, there are certain unsavory things you must do to preserve the whole of life. In the beginning, I believed it would be possible to save your Jason. I thought there might be a chance to reason with him. But months have passed and I was too late. I tried, but they had already gotten to him, and now they have corrupted him beyond repair. If only I had understood, I would have acted sooner, but it is too late now. Come, see how they have changed him."

She waves her hand, and the wall behind her turns into a screen. On the screen, Josh can see indistinct shapes moving around. It snaps into focus, and he gasps as Jason appears. He watches in horror as a man he recognizes as Evgeni Plushenko steps away, and then a dark-haired, axe-wielding man launches a furious attack on Jason. Jason retaliates swiftly, taking about a couple minute to disarm the attacker and pin him to the ground. He then looks up at Plushenko and snarls something. 

The whole scene is so un-Jason-like that Josh can't help but stare. 

"You see? They have led him astray. They have degraded him to the basest level, warped him so badly that there is no going back. If he saw you now, he would not recognize you as his friend. He might even try to kill you himself. He is a danger to everyone, and it is a necessity that we terminate him while we still can."

"But you can't! You promised me you wouldn't hurt him!"

Nyernoch's voice turns from her previous soothing tones to a hard commanding bark. "You are getting too rebellious. Take off your shirt."

Josh's arms twitch, but with an enormous amount of willpower, he's able to resist.

"Take. Off. Your. Shirt. NOW."

He breaks under her glare, and the shirt comes flying off. He flinches as her fingers run over the healing scars on his chest, and she frowns as she comes to a spot where the scab had begun to peel. "Hold still," she growls out, and then picks up a short ceremonial glass dagger and re-carves the strange symbol in the damaged skin there. He gasps in pain as blood wells to the surface, leaving crimson smears across a pale canvas. 

When the symbol is complete once again, the tension instantaneously leaves his shoulders, and the light flees from his eyes. He stands motionless, waiting for a command.

"Now is that not better?" Nyernoch coos. 

When he responds, his voice is flat once more. "Yes, Master."

Outside, the rain continues to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nyernoch (nee-YER-naw) — demon lady, Myrrgloch's wife


	16. America's Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day exploring the marvels of Pittsburgh and a night at the ballpark: what could go wrong?

It's the evening of June 16, the next day is going to be Jason's second to last day in Pittsburgh, and Olli wants to know if he's free for the evening. 

 _"Why?"_ Jason asks.

_"Well, there's a Pirates game that night, and I've got a pair of tickets to it... I was wondering if you might want to go?"_

_"Of course! …who're they playing?"_

_"The Reds."_

Oh. Cincinnati. He didn't much care for Cincinnati. Well, it should be a good game, especially since the Pirates had broken their losing streak and were good again. Besides, Olli had asked, and he _was_ free, so there was really no reason not to.

_"Okay, what time's the game?"_

_"It's at seven, but Downtown traffic, even for pedestrians, is a bit... interesting. We're gonna want to leave early. But once you've seen PNC Park lit up and the bridge closed off—"_

_"What do you mean, closed off?"_

_"Oh, before Pirates games they close the Roberto Clemente bridge, and it becomes a pedestrian walkway. There are just hundreds of people streaming across it, like a human river crossing the real river... It's just stunning."_

Jason thinks about that, tries to imagine it. He can't quite visualize it. _"I think that's something I'd need to see in person."  
_

 _"You will, you will, and you'll be amazed."_ Olli stops talking, and then coughs self-consciously. _"So, um, d'you wanna spend the day exploring Downtown?"_

" _Okay_ ," Jason smiles, and then remembers, _"There was that sandwich place you told me about..."_

_"How could I forget? That'll be lunch."_

***

The next day, Olli shows Jason all the City of Steel has to offer. They have breakfast at Pamela's, look about Oakland and the Cathedral of Learning, see the Fountain, walk around Market Square, and have lunch at Primanti's. Jason can't help but laugh and splash around at the Water Steps, which in his opinion are amazing and fun and should be in every city across America. 

He now understands why Olli told him to bring a change of clothes and wear things he didn't mind getting wet. 

After that, they head down to Kayak Pittsburgh and rent a couple kayaks on the rivers. The sky is crystal clear, and the water seems to shine in the sunlight. It's such a beautiful day, and Jason's just glad he could spend it with his boyfriend without having to throw a knife or disarm an assailant. 

There is one blemish, though. As they're walking through Point State Park, Olli gets recognized by a little boy, and when the kid asks for an autograph, the mother takes another look at them... and recognizes Jason. Then they have to make up some story about free time and maintaining Olympic friendships, but it's clear the mom doesn't buy it. 

But other than that...

They head down to the ballpark around six thirty, and Jason has to stop and stare for a moment when they get to the bridge. There's a white barricade in the street, stopping cars from entering but doing nothing to prevent the tide of black and gold washing across the span. It's even more impressive than Olli had described it as, and Jason is glad he wore a black t-shirt so he doesn't stand out too much. He twists the Pirates cap Olli had given him nervously between his fingers and then follows his boyfriend out into the crowd. 

He sticks close to Olli, not wanting to lose him in this unfamiliar place. There are people on all sides of him, yellow P's everywhere he looks, and bandana-festooned pirate heads leering at him from all angles. It's loud, the chatter of a whole city drawn together by passion and loyalty and a shared support of their team. He's heard that kind of chatter before, but it had always been welcome, a noise he could join in. Here, he's an outsider, someone who doesn't belong. 

Olli looks back and then stops, pulling him off to the side. "Hey," he asks, "you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Jason responds. Olli hesitates, and then smiles at him, and begins walking again.

After that, Jason feels more like he belongs.

They make their way in through the center field gate without incident, and walk around a bit before finding their seats in the outfield bleachers. The seats are sun-warmed and surprisingly comfortable, and they're right next to the bullpen and right up against the field. It's a great view, out across a sea of green grass to the bases and the pitcher's mound and home plate and the grandstand, towering into the sky, looming like a huge wall to keep the evil out and the good luck in.

Jason smiles, reaches out to hold Olli's hand, and settles in to enjoy the game.

It's the middle of the sixth inning, with the Bucs up 3-1, when Jason gets _that_ feeling again. He shivers and looks around; nothing seems out of the ordinary. Then again, the demons aren't going to be in plain sight; they're going to be hiding, and they won't show themselves until they're ready to strike.

Olli nudges his arm. _"You feel it too?"_ he asks. Jason nods silently, and Olli glances around. _"Should we tell someone?"_

 _"No one would believe us."_ Jason shifts; the tension is winding him up, and under the surface, there's that same ancient power itching for a fight. 

Just because he's got a name for it now doesn't make it any less disturbing.

Olli stands, and Jason follows. It's smart to get out of their seats now, because it means less innocents around to get hurt when the fight actually starts. They wind their way toward one of the rotundas, those huge ramps spiraling upward, until they reach the top level with the nosebleed seats. Jason leans over the railing, staring down at the field below, watching. 

He can still sense the _eyes_ , but they don't seem to be watching him this time. 

 _"Why did this have to happen?"_ Olli mutters.

Jason turns to look at him. _"Because we could never have a peaceful day together—"_ he begins sarcastically, but then a scream interrupts him. He whirls, ready for whatever might greet him.

Down on the field below, a dark shape has appeared by the pitcher's mound. The pitcher, Cole, is lying still on the grass, and the other players are either backing away or running as fast as they can. 

Jason doesn't even stop to think; he simply lets the warrior spirit take over and leaps off the edge of the rotunda. His wings snap open as he falls, catching the air and turning his plummeting descent into a steep glide. The monster doesn't even see him coming; it wails as he slams into it from behind, burying a knife in the back of its head and leaping out of the way as it thrashes and then explodes into a cloud of black sand.

Olli lands beside him, and Jason can't help but think, _that was too easy..._

Then he immediately regrets that thought as he catches sight of the creature smirking at them from across the field, perched in the stands right where they'd been sitting. He recognizes those eyes, the dent on the side of its skull, the thick scarring on its skin.

It's the beast that attacked them in Sochi.

It leaps into the air and hurtles toward them, landing a few feet away. "I've tasted yer blood once, Coryllewn. 'm gonna enjoy my secon' taste," it snarls.

Jason faces that mutated face with a surety he doesn't feel. "Not gonna happen," he states calmly. Behind him, he can hear Olli muttering under his breath, throwing up walls and barricades to keep the beast away from the humans. 

He narrows his focus, taking in every detail of the monster from its overlarge limbs and bulbous head to its leathery skin and ragged wings. It snarls at him, releasing a blast of moist, fetid air, and he flinches away before leaping sideways as it charges. A jagged horn rips through the air mere inches from his chest, and a claw catches his right shoulder, tearing a slash in his shirt. He bites back a yelp of pain and tosses his knife to his left hand, plunging it into the demon's ribs. 

The beast wrenches itself off the knife and swipes at his with its claws, and he ducks, throwing himself forward while staying low to the ground. He gets two more deep cuts in before the demon's fangs sink into his arm. He gasps, kicking out and catching the side of the creature's jaw, and the creature drops him but swipes a claw downward toward his unprotected head. 

Suddenly, there's a shout from behind them, and an invisible wall slams into the demon. Olli sends a stroke of fire toward the demon, and then Jason is able to get close enough to slit the beast's throat. Like the demon before it, it crumbles into sand.

In the resulting calm, Jason becomes aware of both the screams ringing out from the stands, and the person behind him.

 _"Thanks,"_ he gasps out, and Olli nods. 

_"You okay?"_

_"Yeah, you?"_

_"I'm fine—"_

A staticky screech cuts across Olli's words, followed by a scratchy voice speaking through a megaphone. " **Drop the weapons and put your hands over your heads!** "

The two boys glance at each other, and then look outward to see the security guards and police officers gathering at the edge of the fields. Olli's protective walls are no longer there, and the guards and officers are armed.

The voice comes again, issuing from a security guard at the front of the group. " **Drop the weapons NOW! If you resist, we will forcefully subdue you!** "

Jason looks down at the knife in his hand, and then back up at the gathered guards. "No thanks," he says, too quiet for them to hear. He turns back to Olli, and sees the same knowledge in the other boy's eyes: to drop their weapons now would be the worst decision they could make.

The voice continues, but it's only background. " **This is your last warning! After that, we're coming out there—** "

 _"Shall we get out of here?"_ Olli asks, talking over the staticky message. Jason nods agreement, saying, _"Yeah, that would be a good idea,"_ and the two of them spring off the ground and vanish swiftly into the night, leaving behind a ballpark in chaos and a wounded, unconscious pitcher and the fear of a city and demon blood on the perfect, idyllic, bright green grass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is indeed a Pirates game against the Reds on July 17. If Jason had come a week earlier, he could've seen a Pirates/Cubs game.
> 
> Also, the outfield bleachers are much better seats than they sound, and PNC park is really nice. 
> 
> My Pittsburgh pride is showing.


	17. Some Actions Warrant Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The police are saying that Jason and Olli are wanted for questioning about the incident.

They end up at Jason's hotel, sneaking in through the balcony doors they'd left unlocked. Jason perches on the edge of the sink, flinching as Olli carefully cleans the cuts and bites on his arm with an alcohol-soaked swab. The blood and sand left over from the fight come away slowly, and Olli ends up helping him shower to make sure everything cleans out.

 _This is my life now,_ Jason thinks. _Demon fighting, injuries, and sneaking through hotel room windows in the middle of the night. I'd better get used to it._

When they're done (and there was only a short bit of 'sidetracking' in the shower), Jason's arm is bandaged with clean white gauze and the two of them are lying on the bed next to each other. Olli is wide awake, and snacking on some trail mix (where did that come from?) while Jason dozes, bone-tired from fighting demons and leaping off railings and flying about in the middle of the night. The bed is comfortable, soft, and Olli is warm beside him, pressing against his bandaged arm.

Suddenly, there's a loud, hammering, knock at the door. Jason starts awake, dragging himself to full alertness, and Olli slides off the bed to get the door. He peers through the peephole, mutters "Plushy," and opens the door to a somewhat nervous, mostly angry Russian.

Plushy stalks in, glares at Jason and then whirls and gives Olli the same glare.

"You are idiots," he snarls.

"We thought—" Olli begins, but he is cut off.

" _Nyet!_ No, you did not think! I understand killing the demon, even jumping off the railing and showing wings, it could be necessary, BUT! If you are going to kill a demon in plain sight of humans, at the very least make sure they cannot see who you are! There are pictures online now, even video, where your faces are _clearly_ seen. What can you do about that?"

 _Fuck_.

Jason can't move. _Shit_. There are pictures on the internet... This isn't— _oh_ _shit_. There can't really be pictures, can there? He can't imagine a world where this would happen. How could they have been found out? 

Plushy keeps talking, but Jason doesn't hear anything. His world has gone eerily quiet, and he's not seeing anything. This... this would ruin everything he knows. There would be people looking for him, police wanting answers and scientists wanting to study him, to lock him up and study him, and he'd never get to see his family again, and he wouldn't be able to skate, and they might even take Olli away from him...

He becomes aware of the fact that he's hyperventilating.

 _"Hey. Breathe."_ Olli, paler than normal, grabs Jason's arms. _"It's gonna be okay, Jase. You've got power, so do I and we aren't going to let anything take us apart. We've got a duty to the whole world, right?"_  and Jason nods. _"So we're going to keep going. We're not going to give up, because we haven't lost."_

And Jason feels calmer now, more in control, because Olli's right. They aren't going to give up. They can't give up, because they've got a world counting on them.

"Why do you two speak Latin anyway?" Plushy asks.

Jason rubs his eyes. "It's part of the whole ancient prophesied being thing." He sighs. "At least, that's what we think."

There's a brief moment of silence.

"You come here for other reason, or just yell at us?" Olli asks.

Plushy starts, and then shakes his head. "You are going to want to get out of here soon. Very soon. I estimate we have less than an hour before the police arrive. I suggest you start packing."

"Where are we gonna go?"

"Six options: Tokyo, Cairo, St. Petersburg, Dublin, Rome, or Portland."

"Portland, Maine?"

"No, Oregon."

 _That seems kind of random,_ Jason thinks. The other cities are old, large and famous, but Portland is... well, it's not _small_ , it's the 28th largest city in the US (thank you, Wikipedia), but it's not ancient, or even that old... but it's in the same country, so they wouldn't need passports or plane tickets to get there. They could drive. 

He says as much, and Plushy nods. "Easier to get to, yes."

"But why Portland?" Olli asks.

"It is the City of Roses, and roses are one of Mora's symbols. Someone hid a 'key' in a house there in the 1890s, but it got moved in the mid 50s and we lost track of it. There is a rumor, though, that when the Rose Garden was planted, the key was hidden there, and that when it was found and activated, it would open a portal to... somewhere else."

"What do you mean, somewhere else?"

"I—" Plushy begins, but he's interrupted by a car screeching in the street below. "Never mind. You need to get ready. We have a long drive ahead of us; I will tell you then."

"Wait, you're coming too?" Jason mumbles surprisedly. He'd thought Plushy had just been there to warn them.

Then another thought occurs to him. "What about Paulie and Sarah? And Nealer?"

"They cannot make it at the moment, more on that later. And I cannot trust you two to make it across the country on your own, can I?"

"No you can't!" Olli cheerfully replies. "Would end up in hotel room in middle of nowhere. Never leave, too busy to leave!"

Plushy groans. "Did not need to know that."

Jason smirks.

 _A road trip,_ he thinks. _Well, at least it's a plan of action, and then we'll figure out what's next when we get there. But until then, safe driving..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine being on the end of a Plushy glare...
> 
> Next chapter is "Trippin' on the Highway": the kids sleep in the backseat, Plushy road rages, and stories are told.


	18. Trippin' on the Highway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a road trip... a warrior, a mage, and a chaperone?
> 
> In other words, the kids sleep in the backseat, Plushy is frustrated, and stories are told.

Jason wakes up the next morning with a cramp in his neck. He stretches, cracking his spine and then wincing at the pain between his shoulder blades. He throws the blanket off and sits up, opening the door and climbing out of the car to go see what the others have gotten up to. 

The car, a dark blue Subaru Outback, is parked in the lot of a rest stop in western Ohio. The parking lot is fairly empty, only a few cars, but Olli seems to be eating something over at one of the picnic tables by the edge. Plushy is not in sight.

Jason heads over to the table and sits down across from Olli, who looks up from his cooling oatmeal and grunts hello. 

"Where'd you get that?" Jason asks. Olli points to the small building over at the entrance to the lot. Jason nods his thanks and walks over to the building. At first glance, he'd thought it was only a shack for bathrooms, but now he sees that the front half is actually one of those small rest stop shops. Plushy is inside, absorbed in conversation with one of the workers. He looks slightly frustrated, so Jason makes sure not to get to close.

He buys himself a packet of instant oatmeal and a cup of coffee and goes out to sit next to Olli. There's a breakfast full of companionable sleepy silence, broken only by the quiet sound of chewing. 

About a quarter of an hour later, Plushy comes out, satisfied, as if he'd dragged whatever he'd wanted out of the unfortunate employee. He opens the car and beckons impatiently to the two of them. Jason looks at Olli, eyes twinkling mischievously, and bolts for the car, yelling "Shotgun!" over his shoulder. Olli swears as he chases after him. 

Plushy rolls his eyes.

Ah, the exuberance of youth.

Once they're somehow all in the car again and back on the highway, heading west, Olli wakes up fully and Jason calms down. As fields and forests disappear behind them, he begins to ponder the questions simmering in the back of his mind. Before, Plushy had simply said they needed to get away as fast as possible and driven in silence. Now, though, Jason thinks he might be able to get some answers.

"So..." he begins, but Plushy cuts him off. 

"Fine, you can have your answers now." He sighs. "The 'somewhere else' I mentioned could be considered another world, but it is more like a fold in the membrane of this one. It is like two spheres right next to each other, except they have fused at the point where they touch, and there is a small tunnel between the two. However, the tunnel is small enough that you cannot pass through it as it stands. What the 'key' does is widen the tunnel to the extent that it is passable for a short amount of time."

"What in other world?" Olli asks.

"The other world is the one the Anaarnei retreated to after the last great war ended and the Forechyi were hunted to extinction. It is called Aanhkreol, or Aanhkreoul."

"Wait, wha... the Anarnay? And the Forekyee? What're those?" Jason asks. He's confused again. He feels like he should be used to confusion at this point, but it's still weird.

Plushy sighs again, as if he can't believe the extent of their ignorance. "The Forechyi were an ancient species that were mentally similar to humans, but with reptilian bodies. The warm-blooded humans were able to kill off their cold-blooded competition, and has forgotten about them.

"The Anaarnei are a race of beings that ancient humans often mistook for gods, demons, or other supernatural beings because of their 'magical' abilities. Some were more demonic than others, corrupted by the power they wielded, and that was te cause of the first three great wars: the Anaarnei fighting amongst themselves. In the fourth and last war, however, a single enemy emerged. Myrrgloch and his lady, Nyernoch, arose by recruiting loyal followers (not just allies or mercenaries) and consuming those who resisted them. There was a great battle, and Myrrgloch was just barely defeated, at great cost to the defenders. However, Nyernoch escaped, and ever since then, she's been maintaining an army, gathering followers, and waiting for the day when she can raise Myrrgloch again, because he may have been defeated and dispersed to the four corners of the earth, but he wasn't defeated. The demons you've learned to kill are the children of Anaarnei and mortals, and are mostly Nyernoch's followers."

"If they demons, what am we?" Olli asks softly.

"We, as in shifters and wingwalkers, are also descended from Anaarnei and mortals, but instead of the corrupted Anaarnei, we come from the honorable ones. We, as in you two, are special beings with a human's body, but the soul of a powerful Anaar. This makes you very different and formidable, because you have Anaar abilities, but human unpredictability and emotions." 

"What's so special about that?"

Plushy looks over at him, and then swears as he has to jerk the stewing wheel to keep them out of a roadside ditch. "Take that as a lesson, kids. Do not take your eyes off the road," he mutters, and then takes a few moments before replying. Eventually, he says, "The Anaarnei, they rarely change. They don't grow up or live like we do. Their lives are so long that death is just kind of a mystery to them. We learn from our lives, our past experiences, and we change over the years. You're not the same person you were ten years ago. But they don't change like that."

There's a few moments of silence, and then another question springs to the forefront of Jason's mind. 

"The others didn't know this... Paulie and Nealer and Sarah didn't, and I don't think any of the other skaters did either. How do you know all this?... And speaking of Paulie and Nealer and Sarah, how are they?"

Plushy hesitates before speaking, not looking over (although maybe it's a good thing that he's keeping his eyes on the road), and gripping the steering wheel tightly. Finally, 

he mutters something under his breath. 

“What you say?” Olli asks.

“The others are fine, albeit a bit shaken. They’re laying low to avoid suspicion. Even the other wingwalkers wouldn’t like it if they knew we’d been training you. They see you as a threat…And I’d prefer not to answer the other question.”

 “Sound very suspicious,” Olli comments. 

“Yeah, it sounds like you got something going on… Are you really here to protect us?”

Under the barrage of questions, Plushy’s shoulders hunch and his hands tighten even more on the steering wheel. He appears to be gritting his teeth. Jason kinda feels bad that they’re doing this to him, but he also knows that it pays to be paranoid, and they need answers. 

Finally, Plushy grits the words out.

“My father was an Anaar.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about Ohio rest stops, so...


	19. The Nonexistent Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vile rituals take place in mansions owned by demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read The Nonexistent Knight by Italo Calvino, you should. It's a really good book.

Hilary sits in the corner of her cell and sulks.

The cell is tiny, an eight foot cube with a concrete floor, a leaky ceiling, three hard cement walls and one side made of bars. The floor is damp and cold, and the small mat and blanket provided isn't nearly enough to keep her from freezing. In the past week, she's been let out twice every day to use the bathroom, and she's not being fed nearly enough. She feels lightheaded when she stands, and her wings have lost their luster; she knows it's only a matter of time before she starts to molt.

Suddenly, a clang rings through the basement, and Hilary starts to her feet. She turns to face the huge freight elevator, and watches warily as a boy walks in. It's the same boy—it's always the same boy—the one that had attacked her that night in the dark alleyway, the one with the empty eyes and the flat voice. He walks over to the door of the other cage, taking out a key and unlocking it, and the huge demi-wolf that's in there lunges at him, only to be stopped by the chain around its throat. 

The boy takes a syringe and shoots some kind of drug into the beast's neck, and its growls slowly cease as it slumps to the floor. The boy drags the creature to the elevator, and they vanish as the doors close behind them.

Hilary shudders. The demi-wolf had creeped her out, but she's outright frightened by the various possibilities that could happen to her, and also, what are they doing with that demi-wolf right now?

When the elevator doors clang open once more, she looks up nervously. She's the only one down here now, and it's not, like, feeding time or anything. 

When the boy stops in front of her cage and unlocks it, she's ready, lunging at him and slamming him into the side of the cell. Then she bolts for the elevator. For a moment, there's a glorious feeling, a second where she truly believes she's going to get away. She's almost to the elevator, almost out of the basement...

Then the grate slams down across the doors, and she has to skid to a stop. Before she can do anything else, the boy tackles her to the ground, dragging her arms behind her and snapping the cuffs around her wrists.

She tries to struggle, but really, now that she's been caught _again_ , it's not much use. The boy reopens the elevator and drags her inside, then closes the doors behind them. The lift gradually rises, agonizingly slow. After an eternity, it stops, the doors open, and Hilary is shoved out to land face first on the rough carpet. 

Before she has the chance to get her bearings, she's hauled to her feet and forced through the hallway, out a back door, and down onto the extensive lawn behind the manor. While she's still trying to figure out what's going on (at the same time struggling desperately to get away), the boy drags her to a column in the middle of the grass and shackles her to it.

By this time, she's freaking out. It doesn't help that she can see the four one columns forming the points of a pentagram. The demi-wolf has been chained to one of those columns; it is beginning, slowly, to awaken. Two of the other columns are crystal clear, one with flames roaring and billowing inside, the other filled with ice. 

But it's the fifth column that scares her most. It's pitch black, yet seems to be writhing. As she looks closer, she sees that it's a black sarcophagus, ebony, laid with jet and obsidian, with flecks of amber and bronze studding the surface. It's not moving, itself, but the lid has been scratched and damaged, and it's obvious that whatever's inside wants out.

Suddenly, something moves in the corner of her vision. She strains her neck, and the shadowy silhouette coalesces into a woman who strides across the lawn as if the whole world is within her reach, and she's finally stretching out to grab it. Her hair is black, with a white and red streak down the side, and her skin is paler than ice. The overall effect gives her a ghostly, surreal look.

Without a word, the woman stalks to the center of the pentagram and scratches something in the dirt. She scans the setup carefully, and then raises her arms and softly, menacingly, begins a growling chant. 

_"Azhen re necht guuzag kol ash guuzag unik haddresh._  
 _Azhen re necht vïvrach kol ash vïvrach unik mikshei._  
 _Azhen re necht moertadr kol ash moertadr unik deinghe._  
 _Azhen ron necht frenwar kol ash frenwar unik ghadnil._

_Azhen re necht amungr kol ash amungr unik qaazikl._  
 _Sengrekheir monya re junkysh progh ulthkag._  
 _Hödraf guuzag, hödraf moertadr, anyn ash frenwar breigh iknah klynåw,_  
 _Hödraf vïvrach, hödraf amungr, toedh iknah Myrrgloch vraizghe!"_

The woman stops, slashes her palm open with a short knife, and smears the coffin with her blood. She hurries over to the demi-wolf, who has worn itself out with its thrashing and attempted getaways, but still manages to scramble to its feet and back away snarling. It's too slow, though, and a sudden sharp gash along its muzzle allows the woman to paint the coffin with animal blood as well.

Then she turns toward Hilary, and Hilary screams, because... those _eyes_...

The lady's eyes have no pupils. They're just blank white with a circle of ice blue in the center, and they're staring _right at Hil._

She's so scared, she doesn't even notice the cut until the lady walks away and she can feel the blood dripping down her forearm. She watches, terrified, repulsed yet transfixed, as her blood joins the rest pooling on the coffin lid.

The creature inside thumps wildly, sensing freedom in the open air. The night sky above seems to grow darker, clouds drawing in to hide the manor from the watching moon. The lady begins chanting again, with different words this time.

_"Frach jorv ash nheiz jorv ash ghreish jorv ash nheiz jorv uiek._  
 _Frach jorv ash nheiz jorv ash ghreish jorv ash nheiz jorv uiek._  
 _Frach jorv ash nheiz jorv ash ghreish jorv ash nheiz jorv uiek._  
 _Frach jorv ash nheiz jorv ash ghreish jorv ash nheiz jorv uiek."_

She pauses and lifts her hands upward as if raising a great weight. At first, it seems like mere showmanship, but then liquid darkness comes slithering reluctantly out of the shadows and forms itself into a ghostly object. Voice ringing over the horizon, the lady proclaims, _"Praecipitabit umbra venator in mari mergunt et saeculum per ignem. Surge, qui viderant, qualiter futurum; Tellus saeculum desiderat, opus ducem! Surgite, et salutate quidnam futurum sit! Myrrgloch conveniant, integra, et ad me redeat omnes!"_

Thunder rumbles across the sky, seeming to shake the whole world, and the woman grabs the shadowy object, a huge murky war hammer. She raises it to the heavens, and another great peal of thunder rings out. A wordless cry springs from her lips, and a fork of lightning vaults from the tumultuous clouds above to connect with the etherial weapon.

 _"Nox invictus!"_ she yells, bringing the hammer down on the casket's lid in one Herculean sweeping stroke, and the whole world explodes.

When Hilary manages to open her eyes again, she's lying facedown on the blackened grass. The column is gone, and the chains have melted away. The demi-wolf lies lifeless just yards away, and clouds of smoke hide both the woman and the sarcophagus... or at least where they would be.

She manages to stagger to her feet, ignoring the ringing in her ears that is the only noise in this strange new world. Her hands are scorched, the skin reddened and blistering. _Water_ , she thinks, _ice, cool the burns..._

She turns in an unsteady circle, scanning the area before spotting the half-melted pillar of ice and stumbling forward toward it. She nearly whimpers in relief as the frigid water collected in the basin-like center of the pillar soothes the ache in her hands, cooling the reddened skin. She waits until she can't stand the cold any longer, and then draws her hands out and looks around. 

That's when she notices the boy, lying prone on the lawn. At first, she thinks he's dead, but then a small movement and a pained groan reveal otherwise. 

Hilary scans the area, and then sees the handcuffs that had been abandoned in favor of chains. She hurries over, picks them up, and then moves closer to the boy. He doesn't resist as she snaps them on, and she swings his limp body over her shoulder.

She's got no idea why, but when she springs into the air and soars away, she takes him with her.

Maybe he knows something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me a while to write, between schoolwork, writer's block, and some family stress, but I got through it, and I'm feeling like things are looking up. Hopefully, it'll just flow from here on out.
> 
> Nyernoch's chant, in a demonic language of my own invention, is as follows:
> 
> "There is no blood but the blood we spill.  
> There is no life but the life we kill.  
> There is no death but the death we die.  
> There are no tears but the tears we cry.
> 
> There is no love but the love we feel.  
> Everything else is less than real.  
> By blood, by death, and the tears from my eyes,  
> By life, by love, may my Myrrgloch rise!"
> 
> Later on, it goes "Come to the sun to the moon to the sun to us," four times, and then, in Latin, "The Shade will swallow the Hunter, and the world will drown in a sea of fire. Awake, you who had seen what would come! The earth longs for a new age, it needs a leader! Rise and greet your future! Myrrgloch, come together, be whole, and rejoin me at last!"
> 
> And last, again in Latin, "Night unconquerable!"


	20. Mist and Visions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Yulia sees things sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, for me, it's headcanon that Yulia can see the future. I don't know why. She just can.

Yulia sits on a half-rotten log, stares at a fire in front of her, and tries to make sense of where she is.  _Okay_ , she thinks (in Russian), _start from the beginning._  

1\. She is in the Milky Way Galaxy.

_—Yes, she most certainly is._

2\. She is on Earth. 

_—That is believable._

3\. She is in America.

_—Okay... she can take that._

4\. She is in Wyoming.

_—A bit strange, but there could be stranger places..._

5\. She is in Yellowstone Park.

_—That one takes a few minutes, but she's got it... go on..._

6\. She was, just a moment ago, having an argument with a horse.

_—No, no, just no, lost it, please go back to the beginning and restart._

 

She shakes her head and bends forward to feed another chunk of wood into the flames. The bay thoroughbred mare nickers and lips at her shoulder. 

"Stop that, Yuna," she mutters. The horse ignores her. 

Yulia aimlessly picks up a stick and begins tracing patterns in the dirt. A circle here, a square there... she's bored. The dream had told her to come here, to wait, but she's not entirely sure if that was wise. In the past, the dreams had always been right, had always told the truth, but she wonders if, just this time, they might be wrong.

She stares into the flames, shifting restlessly as the shadows stretch around her. Then suddenly she freezes. 

In the fire, pictures are forming, visions that she doesn't want to see but can't close her eyes against: a man on a throne of skulls, a castle in flames, a mother begging for her child, dark riders on horseback galloping after people on foot fleeing for their lives. She tries to move, to back away, to run, to do _something,_  but she's frozen in place, can't move, can't even tear her eyes from the chaotic destruction and horror shown in the flames. 

Slowly, the visions coalesced into one terrifying image that chills her to the core: five people standing in front of a huge demonic army. The five people, three boys and two girls, are blocking the army's path, and the demons at the front are getting ready for battle. Behind the army, there's a giant figure casting a shadow across the ground, and the five people are backing up, but still covered by that enormous shadow.

With a horrified shiver, she realizes that the smaller girl is her. The other girl she doesn't recognize, but one of the boys seems familiar... wait... he's that American skater with the ponytail... what's his name? James? Jason? She doesn't remember... The other two boys don't ring a bell.

Suddenly, words flash through her head: _the Hunter, the Mage, the Night-child, the Traitor, and the Seeing Eye. Look how they quail in front of the Shade. None shall stand before him... better get running._

She jerks to her feet and stumbles backwards, just as a brown blur scatters the fire and Yuna kicks the visions to pieces. But the voice remains, echoing around within her skull. She screams, desperately, panicked, but even that doesn't drown out the final words.

**_They would come home, but be too late_ **   
**_A demon's holding sway._ **   
**_Yet who would wait to challenge fate_ **   
**_And live another day?_ **

**_No fairer night to lose a fight,_ **   
**_And lose your heart as well_ **   
**_Hunter gone with morning light_ **   
**_And Wolf lies where he fell._ **

**_Yet all the world is worth the cost_ **   
**_For what the shadow knew_ **   
**_Seek the lost in land of frost_ **   
**_And bring the spirit through._ **

**_In the northern ice enshrine_ **   
**_To find his very soul_ **   
**_For though its golden towers shine,_ **   
**_Death waits in Aanhkreoul._ **

The final line is repeated, over and over, until there's nothing else in the whole wide earth. Then suddenly, with one final screeching scream, it vanishes. The world spins around Yulia, and then fades out.

All that is left in the small clearing in Yellowstone Park is a bay mare nuzzling the unconscious body of a fifteen-year-old girl.

 

THIS IS THE END OF THE FIRST STAGE OF  
 _THE LIFE THAT WE CHOOSE_  
 _(THE LIFE THAT WE BLEED)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second, third, and maybe even fourth stages of _The Life that We Choose (the Life that We Bleed)_ will be coming later.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, remember, in chapter 2, I did say that Yuna Kim changes into a thoroughbred.


End file.
